


Fear of the Water

by Yennefer_Maleficent_Black



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bit graphic, EXTREME SLOWBURN, F/F, Mentions of Attempted Suicide, Soul-bond, You've been warned, extended enchantment scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 104,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23131840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yennefer_Maleficent_Black/pseuds/Yennefer_Maleficent_Black
Summary: A story of how it should've gone, and what really happened. A look behind Tissaia's cold mask and a deep dive into Yennefer's mind.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 222
Kudos: 345





	1. How much for this Beast?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of this is mine, not the characters and certainly not parts of the spoken dialogues. No copyright infringement was intended and I make no profit off of this.
> 
> Warning: The first chapters will basically be a rewrite of the series and it will be mixed with some of the book's facts.
> 
> I do hope you'll enjoy it, though. Let me know what you think.

Yennefer had always known that her father – well, adoptive father – hated her with a passion she had never seen in anyone else. It was true what the couple had said, about her having to sleep with the pigs, and her father not wanting her. The man had never accepted her as one of his own, for which she partly blamed her blood and deformed spine. He was so ashamed of her very existence, that he had banished her in the pigpen from the young age of five, when her third sister was born. His argument had been that there wasn’t enough space in the house, even though she remained alone even after the next two children had been born.

And so she had spent nine years in living with the pigs, under a leaking roof that left her soaking every time a storm had passed over the village. Of course, after the nine years people had noticed. Rumours had started soon after, speculating on whatever the girl might’ve done to deserve such a fate, yet no villager questioned her father’s decision.

Little did they know how much he hated her, wanted to be rid of her as soon as humanly possible, yet he had never done that because of her mother, who always said she loved Yennefer dearly. The girl did not believe it, not for a second. She guessed it was just this feeling of duty that a mother is supposed to have.

The feeling of duty that led her to meekly object to her being moved into a pigpen and taking care of her whenever she fell ill because of that. That led her to look away in shame whenever her husband would beat her eldest black and blue and cry in a corner afterwards. Her mother pretended that there was nothing she could do, and with their society maybe that was true. Maybe her father really was the most powerful family member.

And though she had always known the man to hate her, she had always expected him to let her stay until she was older, until she could take care of herself and had actually learned something worthwhile on his pig farm. That’s the only reason she hadn’t run away, coming to think of it. It was the only reason Yennefer had endured all the abuse and the heartache. Heartache over her father beating her for something her siblings had done. The embarrassment of having had to sleep in a pig pen.

Still, she had expected to live her life as a maid at some disgraced baron’s court or meet her end at a bandit’s sword. Never would she have expected him to sell his fourteen-year-old stepdaughter out to the next best stranger that came riding along, especially not a witch, as her mother had called the woman. But he had sold her out. And for what?

“Four marks,” she whimpered while looking into the little, dirty mirror which hung in what she supposed was her new room. Four marks were six less than he asked for a pig. Yennefer was worth less than that, or so she now believed thanks to the man who had sold her cold-heartedly, spitting out that she was not his daughter. And why? Had she not had a hump, he would’ve accepted her just fine, like her siblings. She was nothing but a worthless cripple, she thought, and at the same time, she was scared of never being loved nor needed. Of being abandoned and rejected over and over again.

A sudden wave of anger hit her, and she channelled it by assaulting the mirror in front of her, and it shattered into pieces, which were falling into the bowl on the little table standing in front of her. Yennefer stared at the shards, pulled into a trance and not perceptive to the world around her anymore. She didn’t hear the waves crashing against the rock in the distance, the foundation on which her new prison was built.

The prison some random stranger who had bought her had brought her to. Her mother had said that the woman was a witch, and Yennefer supposed that was true enough, considering the portal she had conjured from nothing. Another dead giveaway was, of course, the fact that the woman was dressed in the finest clothes and also was drop-dead gorgeous. Yennefer had been jealous of the dark red coat with the silver fox fur lining. Not only because it looked so very elegant, but also because Yennefer didn’t have a coat at all and was cold most of the time.

That had been at the beginning of their journey, and the witch had soon noticed her jealous looks and her shivering frame. When the witch had asked her why she hadn’t brought her cloak in her usual cold, distant voice, Yennefer had bit back that the disgrace of the family was not afforded a luxury such as warm clothing. Not taken aback in the slightest, the woman hummed while stopping the cart and starting to rummage through one of her crates, pulling out a different coat. Offering it to Yennefer, she said she’d rather the girl not freeze to death before they could make it to their destination.

The second morning of their journey, the witch offered her another cloak in exchange for the other one. Yennefer was wary, not yet trusting the stranger completely, any she asked why she would offer her a new one when the other one was still intact. The answer surprised her, mostly because the witch’s voice was incredibly soft when she said, “because it’s a decent thing to do, offering a new set of clothes, even if I don’t have other clothing for you at hand. You are human and deserve to be treated as such, girl. Don’t mistake me for your father, little one, I would not treat you like a dirty animal.” They fell into a comfortable silence afterwards, partly because Yennefer entered her docile, magic induced state of calmness again.

After having travelled for a few days, the woman who had bought her had stopped at an inn, meeting someone who, apparently, was the owner of the cart she was driving. Yennefer could not remember much of the journey as the witch had put her under a spell to keep her calm. It was understandable, the girl would have tried to flee at any point in time, given the chance.

During the exchange with the original owner, the witch had sat her down at a table by the door and ordered her something to eat, which Yennefer had eaten obediently. She had exchanged a few words with the man, thanking him and asking for the news, not paying any mind to Yennefer, apparently forgetting about her whole existence for a minute.

Except she hadn’t, for as soon as some of the villagers came over to the girl and had started talking to her, quickly throwing obscenities at her, the witch snapped her head around and glared at the men who seemed unbothered. As soon as one of the men tried to grab Yennefer, a small bolt of fire hit his hand.

Shocked, the men looked at the witch in fear, listening intently as she hissed, “you boys better get your ugly mugs as far away from my apprentice as possible, now!” They didn’t need telling twice before deciding to run and scramble out the door. Grabbing the girl by the arm, the stranger dragged her out the door with an excuse thrown over her shoulder. The next thing she knew was the woman pulling her down an alley in the small village and suddenly they stood in front of the imposing building on the rocks.

During their journey through the seemingly endless corridors of the citadel, the spell on her had gradually stopped working, allowing Yennefer to fight against the grip on her arm more and more. Not that it helped her, of course, or else she would not find herself in this room, standing before a table and staring at the shards of a broken mirror.

Broken. Much like she herself felt at that very moment. Still crying, she contemplated. Contemplated meaning and value of life. Her own family had sold her for a song, metaphorically speaking. She had no worth, nobody to love, nobody who loved or ever would love her if the distant demeanour of the stranger was anything to go by. Yennefer knew she could not lead a life without meaning, freedom. A life without control.

She would always be rejected and abandoned, she thought. So what was the point, really, Yennefer asked herself while she reached for the shards with determination.

* * *

Tissaia was doing one of her rounds when she noticed that something was off, not that she hadn’t expected it, otherwise, she wouldn’t be walking around Aretuza in the middle of the night. With every round of new girls, she brought back to the school, there was always at least one troublemaker. She listened in on the girls’ thoughts and tried to discern which live force belonged to which girl. It was incredibly difficult in a place crawling with humans capable of magic, but she would not be the Rectoress of Aretuza if all she could do were cheap parlour tricks.

Halting in the middle of the corridor, she focused on the peculiar feeling and soon determined that it was an anomaly of one life force, one that was losing in strength, and quickly so. Head snapping to her right, she soon determined where this fading being was and asserted that it had to be Yennefer, which did not surprise Tissaia at all.

She heaved a sigh and unlocked the door, entering the room to see what the silly girl had done to get into trouble. Hoping that the opened veins were more than just a pathetic display of disobedience and rebellion, Tissaia examined the damage done. It was not, she gathered. Yennefer had been serious about this, had even damaged the tendons, therefore possibly limiting the usability of her hands, which was unacceptable for a sorceress.

Summoning supplies necessary for the care of such a wound, she got to stopping the bleeding and cleaning the wounds immediately. Tissaia knew that this girl had to have a lot of potential, seeing as her conduit moment teleported her across the continent, even though Istredd, the Ban Ard boy, saw fit to send her back, effectively giving Tissaia an extra amount of work. She would also have to have a word with Stregobor about that, as the boy was his protégé. Hopefully she could get him to tell Istredd to leave Yennefer alone.

This wasn’t the first time she addressed this type of wound, unfortunately for her but very fortunate for her new apprentice, so she was done quickly. Now that the girl was out of danger, she would no doubt sleep until dawn, Tissaia knew that. Picking her up, she set her down next to the bed before exchanging the medical kit with a bucket of water as well as some cloth. Silently, she got to cleaning the girl’s hands and arms from blood, and with a magic spell, she made the blood stains on Yennefer’s and her own clothing disappear.

Picking her up again, this time to lay her onto her bed, she looked at her one more time before starting to clean up the blood that was on the floor. Yennefer was her responsibility now, so this task came somewhat naturally to her, even though she found herself irritated by the millennial task she had just burdened herself with.

Knowing that the girl would probably not wake before the sun was high enough to shine through her window, Tissaia could have gone to bed then. There was nothing left to do for her here, strictly speaking. And yet she chose to stay, effectively condemning herself to a night without any sleep, not that that mattered much. She might be one of the oldest sorceresses currently living on the continent, but she had no problem with staying awake for 48 or so hours. She could sleep tomorrow.

Having made that choice, she sat down on the bed next to her apprentice, studying her facial features, observing her breathing. Once she ascended – provided that she does – she would be fixed up to her liking, probably losing the hump and giving her shinier hair, and then she would probably be the most beautiful girl to ever come from Aedirn, but that remained to be seen and Tissaia really shouldn’t get ahead of herself.

Contemplating the girl’s predicament, she came to the conclusion that she was probably partly to blame. Buying a fourteen-year-old girl from her hateful stepfather for all but four marks was bound to cause some trauma, and Tissaia had no idea what Yennefer had to go through until that point in time. In retrospect, she wished there would’ve been a more tactful way, but it had been the easiest and it was not like Tissaia had all that much time.

There was also the fact that any other way was not guaranteed to have worked, and after her first assessment of the man, she had deduced that the safest way to get what she wanted was to appeal to his values. His value was money. Of course, it helped that his step-daughter threw a shadow on his reputation which he no doubt believed would be flawless without her.

Fixing her necklace, she moved her gaze away from the unconscious girl and redirected it at the wall, concentrating on the thoughts of the girls in the adjacent rooms. Just because this girl had gotten herself into a massive load of trouble didn’t mean that the others would behave like little angels. Anica was silent by now, having cried herself to sleep, while Doralis was still thinking about her past life. Sabrina, a little further down the corridor, was having grand thoughts about the future, picturing herself at some court as a powerful mage.

Tissaia’s lips twitched into a smile before she regained composure and left the girl alone, she would not make any trouble tonight. Or any other for that matter. She was ambitious, which was good, but even better was her ability to keep a cool head, ignore her emotions. Hopefully that ability would rub off on Yennefer over time, she thought.

* * *

It was mid-morning when Yennefer began stirring, instinctively touching her wrists and hissing when the pain set in. Tissaia, who had gotten up to stand next to the bed as soon as the girl’s mind begun to be more active, asked, “do you know how many people wouldn’t blink if you died? Your attempt failed.”

Yennefer looked at her, a confused look colouring her pale face. Unsure of herself, she asked, “who are you?”

“Tissaia de Vries -” she tilted her head a bit – “rectoress of Aretuza.” It was clear that those words meant little to Yennefer, who had likely not heard of either her or the school she led. Having taken the girl from her old village outside of Vengerberg herself, Tissaia couldn’t blame the girl for her lacking knowledge, and why would she?

“You should’ve let me die, at least I had control over that,” the girl whined, close to tears. Her head hung low again, avoiding any eye contact.

“Oh, that’s adorable, piglet,” she said in a monotonous voice, not giving away any emotions. Not that she had any in this particular moment. “You weren’t taking control; you were losing it.” At that, Yennefer looked at her again. Tissaia was not sure if it was the nickname or the bit about control that had caught Yennefer’s attention, but it did not matter.

“Your attempt failed, but not because you did not try hard enough,” Tissaia said in a stern voice. “If this had just been an act, a stupid little demonstration, I would feel nothing but contempt. But you were serious, you cut deep.”

Noticing the girl’s apparent thirst, she took the cup from the nightstand and pressed it against Yennefer’s lips, watching as she drank greedily. When it was empty, she put it back down and took a seat on Yennefer’s bed, rather close to the girl.

“I will take care of you, girl,” the rectoress said with conviction. “Because it seems to be worth it. But I will have to work on you, oh yes, and quite a lot. Not only will I have to correct your spine and your shoulder, but also your wrists. You cut deep enough to almost sever your tendons, and a sorceress without the use of her hands isn’t worth a grain of salt.”

She paused to gaze at Yennefer’s face again. Some of the colour had returned to her cheeks, but her eyes were averted. The little piglet didn’t make a single sound, didn’t dare look at the rectoress.

“You will live, girl.” Her voice was stern, not showing any sympathy. It would not have helped Yennefer to be pitied, not at all, it may even have been detrimental to her growth.

“I will take care of you,” she repeated and started stroking the girl’s hair softly. “There are no witnesses in here, and I will keep it a secret, so cry, my girl. Cry for the last time, for there is nothing more hideous than a crying sorceress.”

* * *

“I sense your terror, and you’re right to be afraid.” It was the usual first hour she gave, nothing new about it. Her statement had only partly been directed at Yennefer, who had stood by the entrance, unsure if she was really meant to be there, before timidly walking in and taking her place behind a desk. Tissaia had a feeling that this might be the only time she ever really saw the girl being timid.

She was in her element, circling the new girls in the greenhouse, teaching them that Chaos was the most dangerous and widely spread thing in this world. Her walk was like a dance, meant to give her better insight on each of the girls while saying, “But… each one of you showed an aptitude for channelling it, your conduit moment, which created a ripple that reached me here, in Aretuza.”

Looking around, she made a split second decision whose conduit moments to mention and whose to let out, continuing her speech, “Anica, you saved a drowning boy with nothing but your mind.” After having mentioned Fringilla, who froze a cat, and let her slip in her excuse of it having been an accident, Tissaia had to hold back her amusement when Sabrina smiled smugly at the memory of turning her mother fat. That girl would truly do marvellous things one day.

The rectoress decided against mentioning Yennefer’s conduit moment, not wanting to explain how the girl got into the Tower of the Gull, which was supposed to be impossible, and out of it again, which had been the result of Stregobor’s apprentice, the little rat.

One of the girls, Doralis, started clutching her doll even harder when she heard that they were not automatically capable of magic just because they showed an aptitude for channelling Chaos, and Tissaia couldn’t help but see that gesture as a pathetic attempt of grounding herself which – quite obviously – failed.

She would not ascend if she didn’t pull it together, just like the girl who said she wanted to go home, to which the rectoress responded that this was her home now. Anica, the girl who wanted to go home, stood next to Yennefer, who was at the desk right in front of her, giving her the opportunity to observe her throughout the lesson without making it all too obvious.

“While oceans of mystery remain, we have deduced that organizing Chaos into magic requires two things. Balance and Control. Without them, Chaos will kill you,” she said in a cold manner that made Doralis and Anica shiver uncomfortably while Sabrina just stood there, thoroughly unimpressed. Saying that this lesson was the simplest of trials to determine whether they were worthy of ascending, she mentioned that the balance lied between their flowers and the stones, asking them to lift the stones without touching them.

None of them even considered what she had said about the balance. Not even Fringilla, whose uncle was on the chapter with her. That was somewhat surprising, as Tissaia would’ve expected that her uncle would’ve taught her one thing or another, seeing as they had a considerably good relationship. She was powerful for sure, being the first one to lift her stone without the help of the flower, which led to chaos claiming a part of her life-force, making her hand wither like a flower.

The rectoress was sure that Fringilla was less than pleased at being made an example, being as insecure as she displayed herself to be upon the beginning of class. She didn’t want anyone to think she was a bad girl, so, when Tissaia had mentioned her conduit moment earlier, she just had to throw in how her freezing a cat had been an accident.

“There is no conjuring something from nothing. There is a give and a take,” she said as though it was the most obvious thing, and then she revealed the purpose of the flower and directed her apprentices to try again, this time watching as almost all of them were successful, some even on their first try. Anica looked over at Yennefer with pity in her eyes, and Tissaia could read in her thoughts that she mistook Yennefer’s temporary weakness as a general inability.

As Yennefer grew more and more desperate, Tissaia tried calming her by saying, “you’ve lost a lot of blood, piglet.” The girl did not react but instead kept trying, needing to prove herself worthy. The rectoress could see that she was holding too much control over herself, restricting her Chaos in a way that crippled it instead of making it flow the way she needed it to.

Then, she looked at the flower in her hand and bit off one of the white petalled heads. This seemed peculiar, as the flower itself was not magical, but Tissaia came to the conclusion that Istredd had left more of an impression than she would’ve hoped. The sorceress was aware that it was a problem for another day, yet she couldn’t help but worry whether she’d be able to get that moron out of her head, to make her see the bigger picture and how useless he would be to her. His greatest passion was playing with rocks, after all.

Stepping around her own table, she advanced Yennefer, whose eyes snapped towards her, hearing every word the rectoress said to her: “Sometimes a flower is just a flower, and the best thing it can do for us is to die.” She meant to calm the girl, make her relax so that she could figure out what she was doing wrong herself since Tissaia would not tell her. Every girl had to figure out every single lesson by themselves, no cheating for anyone, not even a weakened piglet.

Yennefer, however, was anything but pleased with that comment and decided it was best to just storm out of the greenhouse, making it a more dramatic display than it had needed to be. Considering the circumstances, Tissaia decided to let it slide. The girl would be here long enough, she could start teaching Yennefer manners soon enough. Maybe tomorrow already, or the day after, but definitely not today.

* * *

Late that evening, Tissaia found herself wandering through the Corridor with the girls’ rooms yet again, listening intently to their thoughts. For most, it would be the last time to be checked up on, seeing as Tissaia made a habit out of respecting her apprentices’ privacy wherever possible, so she did not read the thoughts of anyone who had been in Aretuza for longer than a week.

Unless someone was a troublemaker, meaning she’d check on Yennefer for quite a while yet. Not that the girl would ever know, she thought. The girl currently showed no signs of being at any risk, neither in her thoughts nor in her behaviour, even though she was still acting a bit erratic. On an earlier round, Tissaia was quite displeased about the fact that Yennefer had not been in her room, but she could guess where she had run off too and decided not to act on it, even if Tor Lara was, strictly speaking, off limits to students without supervision.

Sabrina had already gotten to studying, it would seem, and the rectoress believed she may just be the most dedicated student in her class. Doralis, on the other hand, was still stuck in the past, it seemed, as was Anica, who was thinking of her old home. Those two would do good to make some friends and move on with their life here, she thought.

Quite pleased at the prospect of only having to observe one of her students for a bit longer, she made her way back to her office. Heaving a heavy sigh, she closed the door behind her and sat at her wooden desk, mourning the fact that she would get little sleep tonight. She still had to fill out forms and reports regarding the new students as well as the ascension of the ones that were ready, but she also had to read over the budget report of the chapter.

That was a frustrating task, yet one she had gotten used to over the years. The brotherhood had a lot of money and did by no means need to safe a huge amount of money, yet they were always unwilling to give her what she needed, or rather wanted. This led to her developing her own pattern of behaviour, meaning she always asked at least double the amount she actually needed and negotiated from there. Most of the time, the sorcerers of the brotherhood got bored with that seemingly millennial task pretty quickly and just granted her the budget after round three, still granting her more than she really needed.

By the time she got to get to bed, it was extremely late, or rather early, and Tissaia felt exhaustion cursing through her body. After her evening routine, minus the bath, she sank into her soft sheets with a sigh of contentment and promptly fell asleep.


	2. Bottle Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Characters or most of the dialogue and I make no profit from this. No copyright infringement intended.  
> You made it through this week, so here's your weekly update! I hope you will enjoy this one as well!  
> Also a shoutout to my Beta. If you're reading this: You're amazing and thanks again for your help with this!

‘Thought transference should flow through you, like learning to dance, swim, or kiss,’ Tissaia had told them. Very funny, Yennefer thought. To this date, she hadn’t learned to do any of that, and she did not think that any of those were going to change at any point in the near future, especially not the last one.

Tissaia had also called her Piglet, again. Yennefer had a feeling that she made a point of calling her that every time she asked something particularly stupid. Not that the girl had any way of knowing of the things she asked, she was still practicing reading and had had no contact with magic whatsoever before coming to Aretuza.

Besides, ‘look until a door becomes a window’? What was that supposed to mean? To Yennefer, Anica’s eyes were already windows, they were just so dirty that she couldn’t look through them. Yennefer couldn’t blame her partner for that, though. She was kind and encouraged her, saying she could do it even though Yennefer herself was sure she could not.

Since the beginning of the lesson about an hour ago they sat in two rows, facing each other. Each of them in their usual clothing every apprentice wore, all of them a dark shade of blue/petrol and Yennefer couldn’t help but wonder if that was just the rectoress’ decision, as she wore the same colour more often than not.

The more time went by, the more embarrassment she felt, considering the course of the last weeks. Yennefer had been here for three weeks already, and yet she felt like she had achieved nothing. Failing at this, too, was simply out of the question. Another failure, she feared, would prove that she truly wasn’t worth more than four marks.

Unbeknownst to her, she caused her own disability to fulfill the given task by putting more pressure on herself than at all necessary. Yennefer had yet to learn that overthinking things was never the best course of action. Sometimes it even destroyed any chance there was at succeeding.

Growing desperate, she tried to come up with possible fears instead of actually trying. One was afraid of spiders, of rats or snakes. Some things making more sense to her than others, but that was because she was herself, not someone else. If she was able to read someone’s mind… quite frankly she would not be sitting there, trying to make something up.

“Anica’s worst fear is drowning.” It was an impulse. She was probably wrong, too. But she remembered what Tissaia had said in their first lesson: Anica had saved a boy from that death.

But if being hated had caused her to have her conduit moment, maybe her partner had been in a similar situation. Yennefer knew she was grasping at straws, but she couldn’t help it, she needed one moment of success.

“Come here,” commanded Tissaia, voice even and a bit eerie, fitting the mood of the entire room. By now, it was dimly lit, just enough for the rectoress, who was reclined comfortably as well as elegantly on her chaise longue, reading her book.

Until Yennefer had approached her, the powerful sorceress had fiddled with her necklace while reading her book, but now she put her hand onto her lower arm, effectively creating a form of blockade between her and her apprentice.

“You take weeks to lift your stone, you cannot bend water and fail to perform the simplest physical tasks smoothly,” the rectoress said in a cold voice, bringing up all of her failures, not leaving a single one out before continuing, “and now you lie to me?” The kind of disappointment that coloured her voice struck something in Yennefer, hurting her even more than the lack of her accomplishments.

Of course, Tissaia was the one teaching them thought transference, Yennefer thought. There was no fooling her, how could she have been so stupid as to consider it in the first place? The woman had obviously heard her, because the apprentice was able to catch the smallest twitch of the older woman’s lips.

“Yes, piglet, lying to me is foolish, at least as long as your own abilities have not fully developed. Though I suppose you did succeed in the end, if only by different means. You know, Anica’s fear really is drowning,” amusement coloured her voice and Yennefer asked herself what might be so funny about that. Standing in front of her mentor in awkward silence, she waited for the rest of her lecture.

“Do not lie to me, girl, I will know. Your own worst fear makes such sense, you know. Even if you were a beauty, still no one would love you.” Yennefer was shocked at the harsh words, though it sounded like Tissaia had left something unsaid and her eyes were a tinge too soft for her to actually mean that. It still stung. Having those words rain down on you so quickly, just for the assailant to turn her attention away from her even quicker.

Taking Tissaia’s turning back to her book as her cue to get out, she left. Fuming. Anger was all she had ever had, all her life. Back on the farm, she could not act on the anger, of course. Passion would’ve brought her nothing but punishment, though that way she would’ve at least deserved it. But here, at Aretuza, she had the luxury of being able to storm out of a room now and again. Or at least she had always gotten away with it until now.

* * *

Frustrated as she was, she went to the first place that came to mind: Over the long bridge to the imposing tower, where she had teleported herself to weeks past, to where she had met the kind boy who had told her she had magic. Impressive magic. She guessed that turned out to be an error of judgement on his part.

Istredd. By now she had met him again a few times and she had learned that he was from the Ban Ard school, and she often wondered what he was doing here, then, as Ban Ard was in Kaedwen, whereas Aretuza was in Temeria. It was not like the boy was capable of teleporting himself over that distance, not if even Tissaia wasn’t. Yennefer may not like the woman for rather obvious reasons, yet she could not deny the fact that she found herself rather fascinated by her.

She told herself it was envy. Yennefer was envious of her immense power, wanted her abilities. The girl knew she had a long way to go to become even near as powerful as her. There would be a lot more pain and suffering, she knew that, but it would be worth it. Power and love were worth it, and once she was beautiful, someone would love her, she was sure of it. She’d prove Tissaia de Vries wrong, she’d prove everyone wrong.

Silently entering the cave-like tower, she looked around, keeping watch for the kind boy. Soon, she found him by a column made of skulls and other bones, much like the rest of the room. Wondering who would’ve ever thought this design to be any good, she crept closer to Istredd. Not sure what to say, since she was still angry about her failure, she just stood there until he discovered her on his own.

“Yenna, nice to see you again!” He beamed at her with genuine affection and Yennefer thought that maybe, just maybe, she could be able to prove Tissaia wrong even earlier than she thought. She did not answer him, though, instead, she slumped down against a wall and sulked.

Grin promptly dropping from his face, he knelt down next to her, inquiring about what had happened. When Yennefer relayed everything to him, he looked at her with a small smile and he even consoled her and told her not to give up as she told him that she thought Tissaia was right. Her frustration did not vanish in the slightest when she learned that it had taken the boy three days to get thought transference, though the idea of him having a classmate whose greatest fear was cheese almost made her smile.

“I want to be good, good at something,” she said with irritation and defeat in her voice. What good was she to a school for sorceresses if she couldn’t even do magic. Proper magic, as she should. Yennefer just didn’t understand why it was so difficult for her all of a sudden after she had teleported herself all the way from Vengerberg to the Tower of the Gull.

“You’ll get there,” Istredd insisted stubbornly, “I didn’t give up, and now I can read minds.” Yennefer could only snort at that and throw a sarcastic comment at his head. She knew he was only trying to help, to be nice, but he was not the right person, somehow. He sort of didn’t fit. Or at least he wouldn’t in the future because right now he was about all Yennefer had.

When he offered her that she could read him, she merely scoffed at him, repeating that she had already failed once this day and she didn’t plan on embarrassing herself any further. Yet she couldn’t refute his argument about failing by not doing something, so she gave in and looked at him, hard.

He chuckled slightly, commenting, “you can see, Yennefer. You can see -“ he took her hand, mindful of the bandages that were still wrapped around her wrists – “ you just… need to look past, Yenna.” Looking at her with so much faith that it nauseated her, he waited patiently until she said something.

Heaving a sigh and admitting defeat, she tried to look past. And that’s when she saw them, little creatures in the ocean during a full moon. Gasping, she asked Istredd what they were. Never before had she seen moon jellyfish, never even knew such little creatures even existed. She asked herself how they glowed in the dark.

All of a sudden, the fish vanished and instead she saw only his eyes, but before she could be disappointed, a sound filled her senses. Smiling at the beautiful sound as well as her accomplishment, she said, “I can hear them!” Istredd grinned at that, delighted to see her beaming with pride, telling her they were cicadas in summer.

This time, the sound did not stop, but another thing was added. Touching her bottom lip, Yennefer sighed, “I can taste it.” During the whole interaction, Yennefer had unconsciously leaned closer to the boy. So close, that he now brought their foreheads together with a low hum. She didn’t mind.

“It’s warm bread,” he explained in a calm voice. He was always so calm, not that Yennefer had ever seen him in a situation that would warrant him not to be, but he was also always warm and welcoming. After her life so far, all the coldness and abuse, she greatly appreciated a little bit of light, no matter where it came from.

Pulling, back, bringing a bit of distance between them, she looked into his face. With a somewhat awkward smile, she asked him if those were the things he loved. To her surprise, he answered, “These are the thing I thought you would love.” Yennefer did not know how to feel about that sentence. It was nice of him to put in the effort, that set him apart from most other human beings she knew, and the jelly fishes really were beautiful to look at. However, now that she knew she had magic and the endless possibilities that came with that, warm bread did seem rather pedestrian.

When Yennefer failed to show any real reaction, Istredd quickly composed himself again, straightening up and clearing his throat. Mentioning that she should probably get back to Aretuza before she got herself into trouble, he turned away from her and back to her work. Looking around one last time, he smiled at her warmly again and said, “it was nice seeing you again, Yennefer, till the next time.”

Once she reached the school again, she slowed down and took her time to get to her room. It wasn’t like they had a specific bedtime, Tissaia didn’t care about such things. As long as everyone was in class on time and capable of performing the things she set them to, the apprentices had every freedom they wanted. Except for leaving Aretuza, of course.

While wandering the corridors, she contemplated the day she had. She found it strange that Istredd had been the one to make her understand thought transference instead of the rectoress, who had been teaching for decades. Somehow, she doubted that Istredd had that much more understanding of teaching. Maybe, she thought to herself, just maybe all there was to it, was understanding the underlying message.

On some level, “look until a door becomes a window” was the same thing as looking past, as Istredd had put it. An open door was nothing but a window without glass in the end. Both could be passed through, even if an open door was more comfortable to pass than an open window.

The trick, Yennefer concluded, was therefore not going to the Ban Ard boy every chance she got, but to look for the hidden meaning within Tissaia’s instructions. It made so much sense, too. If their mentor gave them clear instructions that they only had to follow blindly, they would not truly learn from it, would never become the masters they needed to become in order to hold the power that was rightfully theirs. Tissaia needed them to be clever in order to ensure their survival.

So, if Yennefer now understood the meaning behind the instruction of today’s lesson, maybe she could go back to her earlier lessons and try to figure them out. Having a new sense of determination, she took a turn she normally wouldn’t have at this time of the day and ended up in the greenhouse. The girl figured that she should first perfect the things she already knew before turning to the exercises she had the most trouble with.

Cutting a small branch from the flower they had used in their lessons, she turned to one of the tables that still had a stone on it, not noticing the figure in the corner of the dark room. The other person in the room had stilled as soon as Yennefer had entered, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

Thinking back to when she had first managed to lift the stone, she tried to figure out what she had done differently to warrant her success. Yennefer remembered it clearly, she had felt pressured by Tissaia’s intense gaze on her, apparently willing her to finally succeed in the given task. But that time, she had refused to pay it any attention, because she was certain she’d fail yet again. In fact, she had been so certain that she’d fail that she didn’t pressure herself, she had been relaxed.

That was it, she thought. She needed the flower for balance, that much was clear. But control was not solely about forcing the stone up, it was not about an iron grip on the chaos inside her. It was about letting go just the right amount, to trust her own abilities. She had to let go just enough, let the chaos provided by the flower’s life-force flow through her into the stone. Sounded easy enough, now she just had to do it.

Yennefer took a deep breath and closed her eyes, shrugging her shoulder to disperse as much tension as possible and made sure to have a gentle grip on her flower. Concentrating on the faint feeling the flower’s life force gave off, she tried to imagine the stone floating. Opening her eyes, she gazed intently at the grey stone in front of her and, with conviction in her voice, she used the elven incantation Tissaia had taught them weeks ago.

This time the stone rose as fast and surely as Tissaia’s stone three weeks prior, and yet Yennefer felt like it floated higher and with more energy than the rectoress’ stone had, but maybe that was just her imagination. Sense of accomplishment tended to distort what actually happened, the girl knew that. Not because she’d had so many of them, but because she had ample opportunity to study that phenomenon while still living with her siblings.

“Very good, Yennefer, I’m impressed. Not often do apprentices just randomly go to the greenhouse and perfectly perform a task that they had so much trouble with to that point,” a clear voice rang out from the corner and Tissaia stepped into the light, a pair of garden shears in hand. Tissaia approached Yennefer in her usual manner, elegantly and with her head held high, as was expected of a powerful sorceress.

Yennefer, whose concentration had been broken when she almost jumped out of her skin, had dropped the now withered flower and found herself staring at her mentor with wide eyes. Not sure if, or better how much, trouble she found herself in now, she remained silent for once, waiting for the woman to take her stance in front of her and continue their interaction.

“Tell me, how did you improve this drastically? Or did you just hold back in the lessons, because you know –“ but Yennefer interrupted her, saying that she would’ve known had she held back any of her powers because it was similar to lying. That amused Tissaia, given that the corners of her mouth twitched yet again, and Yennefer wondered if the woman ever showed any kind of emotion. Surely this immense amount of control over herself was tiring at some point.

“So? Are you going to tell me or do I need to read your mind to get the information? I’d hate to invade your privacy, yet I really do want to know, and I always acquire the information I desire.” Tissaia’s voice was toneless as ever, fitting her stoic behaviour perfectly.

Looking into her distant eyes, the girl said, “I took a different approach than usual. Just so happened to be a better one than the one I used to.” At that, Tissaia tilted her head to the side in a contemplative manner, considering her apprentice. After a short period of silence, she wanted to know if Yennefer was questioning what she taught the girls.

“I don’t question what you tell us to do, I merely thought about what I was doing wrong. It led me to look for the true meaning of your words, hidden aspects of the tasks that you did not give to us,” Yennefer said with a hesitant voice. If she angered the rectoress, she was more likely to insult her again, and she did not feel the need for that twice a day. After careful deliberation, she added, “it occurred to me that you kept things from us in order to test our intelligence, to see if we could figure it out on our own. If we can’t do that, we can’t think on our feet, can’t react spontaneously enough to survive in this world.”

The girl was shocked to see an actual smile on Tissaia de Vries’ face. A quite small one, but a smile nonetheless. She was positive that she was dreaming when she registered what her mentor next said, “I seem to have underestimated your perceptiveness, Yennefer. Now if you would excuse me, it is quite late. You should consider going to bed too soon.”

* * *

It had been a month since Tissaia had observed Yennefer’s surprising improvement in the greenhouse, and she was sure the girl hadn’t stopped there. Not only was her worst fear to never be loved, but her greatest wish was actually to be needed by someone, and the girl was of the firm opinion that she needed to be the best at everything in order for that to happen. If only she knew how wrong she was with that, the ability to control Chaos perfectly didn’t make one more or less desirable.

A storm had reached Aretuza this evening, one of significant magnitude. Tissaia had waited until she could be sure that it would endure long enough for her needs and when she was positive that it was, she went to get the girls for an important lesson – catching lightning in a bottle. She always loved teaching that lesson, for it was the last test she needed to see which of the girls would ever truly be ready to ascend, though she usually had a pretty good feeling for that before the next storm grazed them with its presence.

When she went to gather the girls from their beds, she made some notes on the girl’s behaviour. Doralis was still awake, scared to death by the thunder, making Tissaia doubt her ability to ascend even more than she already did. If a girl was scared of something as natural as thunder, how was she to face the odds of the world? Sabrina was stood at her window, gazing outside with an awed look on her face, not scared in the slightest. She would do well today, of that Tissaia was more than sure. Last came Yennefer, who was lying in her bed, looked at her when she entered, sleep colouring her eyes. Capable to sleep through the toughest of storms, Tissaia noted, that was a clear hint at resilience. Not commenting on it, she simply told the girl to get up.

At the tower itself, two of the more advanced apprentices were waiting with the bottles they needed for the lesson and handed one to each apprentice while Tissaia welcomed them. When it at last Yennefer came at the end of the line, she said in a severe tone, “and welcome back, piglet.” Her voice and choice of words had the desired effect, as Yennefer avoided her gaze. Now she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Tissaia knew of her frequent adventures to the tower. Her unauthorized adventures.

Nodding to the older apprentices her permission to get back to bed, she followed her girl and led them to the highest level of the tower, to where there was a hole in the ceiling. Strictly speaking, it was forbidden to perform magic within the tower since the tower was an instable portal, but the brotherhood had managed to ward off the top floor so Tissaia could perform this class.

“Tor Lara, the Tower of the Gull. The most potent place on the continent, off limits to all but the brotherhood,” the rectoress explained, waiting for the girls to form a circle inside before taking her own place at the edge of the round platform. When Yennefer curiously asked why, she did not answer but rather wait until the lightning hitting the middle of the platform made her point for her.

Now that the girls had all understood, she continued by telling them that this was the last test they would have to take, to catch lightning in a bottle. When one of the girls said that it was impossible, she insisted, “no. It’s magic.” Simultaneously she asked herself if that girl had been paying attention at any point of her time in Aretuza, at least until she remembered that it was one of the weaker ones. It was, in fact, Anica, who had become friends with Yennefer, or so she had observed.

She called upon Doralis, who, for a moment, just looked at her wide-eyed, fear pathetically apparent in her eyes, doll still clutched in her hands. That girl would always stay just that, a girl. A scared little girl that would shy away from any challenge, Tissaia truly did not know what she was supposed to do with her were she to let her ascend. Doralis took to the middle of the platform, uncertainty colouring her entire demeanour, head bowed in fear.

The rectoress did not have it this evening, there was not enough time to be gentle, or at least she told herself that. Striding over to her apprentice, she took away the doll and threw it into a far corner of the room, commanding her to raise the bottle and get ready. And she did, slowly, tentatively. Too slow and tentative, not just for Tissaia’s taste, but also for the lightning’s, which struck her a moment later and made the girl fall to the ground.

Showing no emotion at all, Tissaia waited for something to happen, for the girl to move. It would be a shameful waste of chaos if the bolt had actually killed the girl. Luckily, Fringilla told her that Doralis was still breathing, and she told Lark to move her aside for the next girl to take her place. The next girl called upon was Anica.

The girl looked to Yennefer, clearly shaken from Doralis’ fate. She was right to be afraid, of course, considering that her performance had been about as good as Yennefer’s. Well, as Yennefer’s performance before she had managed to find out what she needed to do. The girl with the violet eyes spoke words of encouragement, telling her she could do it, and Tissaia couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take the world to rid her of this hopeless optimism and positivity.

Unfortunately, Tissaia’s patience was wearing dangerously thin and she urged Anica to finally move. And she did, after a second, harsher command, with less hesitation than Doralis, who was now lying unconscious in the corner. Anica was also quicker to raise her bottle, showing the resolution to actually catch the lightning. When lightning struck, it ended up in the bottle this time, at which Tissaia was actually impressed. The rectoress had firmly believed the girl would fail. And in the end she did, because while she was so focused on admiring her bottle in astonishment of her success, her focus on keeping the Chaos in check suffered and her bottle simply burst. Right in her face, making her fall back where Yennefer rushed towards her.

“Piglet, your turn,” Tissaia said in a cold voice and she could see in Yennefer’s face that her disconnected mannerism was not well received. Some part of her wished she could be more affectionate for a reason she did not understand, but this was neither the time nor the place. Tor Lara was still a dangerous place, especially for inexperienced girls like hers. “Faster,” the rectoress urged when she, too, failed to hurry up.

With a resolve the other two had lacked, the Aedernian pushed her bottle up and waited for the bolt to strike, and it did. Instead of entering the bottle, however, the Chaos was absorbed by Yennefer herself, who was thrown against the wall as a result. This time, Tissaia actually turned her head, following her movements and making sure she was alright, not missing the blue glint in Yennefer’s hand where the Chaos was currently concentrated.

Knowing that the girl was alive and breathing, even though charged with a dangerous amount of Chaos, Tissaia decided to let the girl handle the situation her way and turned to Sabrina, imploring her to show the rest of the group how to do it. Sabrina’s success was almost guaranteed, given her progress and ability to control her emotions. When she succeeded, the girl form Kaedwen was not even surprised herself, just in awe of the magnificence that was bound Chaos in a bottle, the rectoress understood the appeal all too well.

“The strong, amongst the weak,” Tissaia said to the rest, even though she had deliberately chosen the order to demonstrate strength in order to motivate those who could do it but needed a little push. She had hoped Yennefer to succeed first, but Sabrina did just as well.

Glancing at Yennefer to see how she was faring, she realized that the sentence had not been taken well by the hot-headed girl. Blinded by her rage and disappointment, she just glared at Tissaia who could already anticipate what was to come but decided not to act yet. A little trust could go a long way, and maybe the girl would surprise her, or so she thought as she looked away again.

She did not. Instead, she screamed and stretched her left arm towards Sabrina, releasing the Chaos concentrated within her the same way she had absorbed it, in the form of lightning. Acting on an instinct that she had honed for centuries, Tissaia all but grabbed the bolt and redirected it to the hole in the ceiling while Sabrina ducked out of reflex. The rectoress glared at the impulsive troublemaker but refrained from commenting on her actions. This was something she needed to scold the girl for in private.

Next was Lark, who, to her dismay, failed too. Having had hopes in the girl who was named after a bird, much like she herself had been, she supressed a sigh before calling upon Fringilla. The girl was still timid but, to no surprise, did as she was told. And succeeded. Fringilla Vigo may lack spine and a mind of her own, but she did possess power, and Tissaia could only hope that nobody would corrupt her in the future. Not having the gift of foreseeing events like that, hope was all the rectoress got in this case.

Two had actually passed the test, and one was too impulsive for her own good and therefore not ready to ascend. All in all, Tissaia was a bit disappointed. Not that it was the worst class she ever had, no, by far not. But she needed to get Yennefer to see how much more control she needed, and she had an idea how to do that.

Waiting until the other five girls had left, two of which with bottles filled to the brim with whirling Chaos, she blocked the passage for the little piglet. She knew a harsh voice and severe actions would not get her anywhere with this apprentice, so she chose a soft voice instead, hoping to break through to the girl telling her that her actions had been pathetic as well as dangerous.

“Felt pretty powerful to me,” Yennefer responded petulantly. Of course, the girl could never admit having made a mistake, why would Tissaia ever expect otherwise? Not letting a fifteen-year old get a rise out her, she decided to say something that was bound to get her attention, “there are mages like Sabrina who are able to ignore their emotions. And then there are mages like us, who are consumed by them.”

“Like us?” She sounded surprised, as though she had never anticipated herself to share any characteristic with her mentor, and for the same reason there was a bit of disbelieve in those violet depths. However, Tissaia decided it better not to dwell on that, either she was believed, or it was a moot point.

Instead, she reminded the young woman that she tried to kill herself the night she arrived, and strengthened her argument by pointing out that tonight, she had almost killed someone else. Telling the girl it was her job to control chaos instead of becoming it, and that tonight’s behaviour was unacceptable and Yennefer had to learn that. She asked, “but if I send you to advise a king who fails to listen to you, and in the process your precious little feelings get hurt, what then? You submit to chaos; he dies and as a result his people turn on us. Whose fault would that be?”

It was almost adorable when the little piglet said it would be hers, it was almost cute that she was not yet able to see the bigger picture. Dissenting that it would actually be Tissaia’s fault for letting her become a sorceress in the first place, the answer she got was that the girl understood, but the rectoress questioned it.

To underline her argument to the point it could not be rebutted, she took the girl’s wrists and slowly removed the bandages covering her scars, accusing her of lying and keeping secrets. Reproached her for succumbing to her emotion and, therefore, to weakness. Holding up her bared wrists for Yennefer to look at and think carefully about her answer when Tissaia asked, “do you actually have what it takes?”

“Yes.” There was no waver in her voice, no uncertainty, only desire for success and power. And before the rectoress could say anything to that, she added, “let me prove it to you, prove that I can control my emotions.” There was a new fire in her eyes, a fire of renewed determination of having absolute control. Maybe the girl secretly desired to have something in common with her mentor, but Tissaia refrained from reading her mind to find out.

“Very well. You want to prove you’re capable, do you? I happen to know that you sneak in here regularly,” she said and observed as Yennefer uneasily stepped from one foot to the other, not meeting her gaze, “oh come now, as if I don’t know you weasel in here to meet that Ban Ard boy, I’m the rectoress of Aretuza, it’s my job to know these things. Stop fidgeting and listen: Your task will be to get me something of his. But not just anything, no. His most prized possessions are these flowers he is so ridiculously fond of, you know the one. Get me one of them,” her voice was even, as though she had just asked her apprentice to get a glass of water, yet she knew it was going to take Yennefer quite a bit of effort.

The girl didn’t say anything, she only nodded dutifully. Giving her a gentle nod in return, Tissaia stepped out of her way and watched her retreat down the stairs to get back to her bed. With a sigh, the rectoress went after her, ready to welcome the sweet relive of sleep herself.


	3. A Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tissaia can't believe Yennefer would be this stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, neither does the storyline or dialogues to this point. I'm making no profit from this and no copyright infringement was intended.  
> SO guys, here is another one. This one (unfortunately) without extended scenes, but we have a slight change in point of view. Enjoy!

A week had gone by since Tissaia had commanded Yennefer to get the flower from Stregobor’s rat, and the rectoress currently strode through one of the lower floors of Tor Lara when she caught the flicker of Yennefer’s shadow as the girl snuck upstairs.

Feeling the inexplicable urge to monitor the inevitable interaction, Tissaia followed her and hid herself within the shadows of the dark tower. As the girl was quite unpredictable, Tissaia was only a little surprised when the girl said, “she knows about us.” The rectoress didn’t have to use thought transference to figure out that the girl was talking about her, and if Yennefer could see her slightly raised eyebrows, she’d know that it was a weak start. It was ridiculous to assume she had ever not known.

“I’m going to be sent home, I’ll never see you again.” Her voice sounded watery and the boy just lapped it up, asking what she meant disbelievingly. Tissaia did not believe the amount of trust he had when he desperately said this wasn’t the last time, that they’d find a way. Yennefer seemed to be a little minx, Tissaia thought.

“How?” The girl let a bit of her temper slip and asked, “with one of your extra special portals?” Her voice was mocking, as though she thought Istredd inferior for not using regular ones.

The boy didn’t notice, instead he launched into an apologetic explanation, something about the brotherhood not being supposed to gain knowledge of this. The rectoress doubted that Stregobor didn’t already know, so the worst of the brotherhood already knew, she therefore didn’t see her problem. Except she did, his problem was his mentor, who had a way with words, making nearly everyone fall for his act and honeyed words.

Upon Yennefer’s insisting question of why he could not tell her, he mumbled, “It’s not the method of magic we’re taught, Yenna. It’s more potent, far more powerful, it wouldn’t be any good if the brotherhood got their hands on it! It opens doors that could never be closed again.” Tissaia nearly scoffed at that, thinking of how a young boy thought he knew better than the chapter, an organization composed of the oldest, wisest and most worthy of sorcerers.

Yennefer, however, still protested, temper flaring up again and putting distance between herself and the boy to put emphasis on her next words, “my worst fear is true. I’m still not enough, even for you.” The rectoress had to admit that the girl was very good at this, maybe she had the makings of a court mage after all.

Istredd fell for it, all the way. Taking her hand in his, he tugged and told her to follow him, bringing Yennefer to one of the columns made of bones and skulls. This level of Tor Lara was basically a macabre sort of crypt, which is exactly why Istredd was so obsessed with it and visited so often. Certainly more times than he had actually told Tissaia about, but she kept that knowledge to herself.

“Do you know whose skulls these are,” the boy asked Yennefer, eyeing her carefully. When the girl took a guess and bluntly said ‘dead people?’, Tissaia had to hold in an undignified snort of amusement. That’s what you get for asking Yennefer such trivial questions, she thought. Stregobor’s rat didn’t let himself be ridiculed though – or he just didn’t notice – and instead he explained that they belonged to the elves that had built Aretuza.

It caught Yennefer’s attention, though, and she stepped up to take a closer look at them, suddenly feeling more connected to the tower than before, and Tissaia hoped that the girl would keep her secret. Telling Istredd about her own blood wouldn’t get her anywhere nice, and Yennefer seemed to know that, because she asked, “do you mean the slaves?” Tissaia wasn’t entirely sure if this was part of her act or if she genuinely didn’t know, because while she did not monitor the library, she certainly hoped that, after months of being here, Yennefer had deigned to at least skim through one of the history books.

The boy proceeded to explain that Aretuza, like Tor Lara and the rest of the buildings on Thanedd, were older than she knew, that the elves had built all of it before the time of the conjunction of the spheres that brought humans and monsters to this world. That magic was taught to humans by the elves, though he did leave out the elven sages, just for the humans to do as humans do and slaughter the elves in order to keep their magic for themselves, painting themselves as the heroes of the story. All very much accurate, thought the rectoress.

“I want to honour them, that’s why I keep it a secret,” he explained to the girl patiently. Gently, he took something from the satchel he always carried with him, holding out a flower for Yennefer to take. Had Tissaia known it would be that pathetically easy to get into the boys head, she would’ve chosen another task for her apprentice.

“Feainnewedd only grows where elder blood has spilled,” he said poetically, and the rectoress couldn’t help but doubt his actual knowledge about the flower, as his statement was, theoretically, not entirely correct. Strictly speaking, it grew everywhere elves were buried in the soil instead of laying them to rest in tombs.

The two of them were standing close, and Tissaia almost didn’t catch him telling her to open her mouth, but she did see how Yennefer put the little flower in her mouth for a moment. After that, Istredd let his forehead rest against Yennefer’s and whispered an incantation that Tissaia could not hear. Careful so as to not alert him of her doing, she read his mind, getting the incantation she wanted, not that she’d ever use it though.

When Yennefer answered his whisper with a playful smile on her face, she was completely relaxed, almost as though she didn’t believe it would work. Tissaia knew she thought it wouldn’t, and yet it did, in an instant. Knowing that Yennefer would know what had led the spell to work, Tissaia receded deeper into the shadows, towards the stairs where she could retreat if necessary.

The portal opened in the form of a swirl, just hanging in the air. Of course, Tissaia had seen it before, as had Yennefer, but the magnificence of it still impressed both of them. Then, as expected, Yennefer tried to run away, but Istredd was faster this time, asking her how she did that on her first try.

Yennefer was not smart enough to keep her secret to herself, was not persistent enough to just leave without an explanation. Tissaia stood in the shadows, shaking her head softly as she listened to Yennefer tell Istredd all about her half-elven father, explaining how he was to blame for her deformed spine. She explained how her father had died in the Great Cleansing, all the while seemingly not noticing that Istredd leaned closer and closer to her.

“It’s why I’m only worth four marks, why no one could ever love me.” There was such sadness in Yennefer’s voice, such bitterness, and Tissaia knew that she was to blame for it, if only partly. Anticipating the rat’s next move and not keen on seeing it, not to speak of her not being too keen on hearing any more of her own wrongdoings either, the rectoress turned on her heels and left, quietly, without either of the apprentices noticing.

* * *

About an hour later, there was a knock on her office door, and without looking up she asked her visitor to let themselves in while ending the security spell on her door. By now, Tissaia had almost believed that Yennefer had gone to her room already, instead of heading directly to her, but if she came directly from Tor Lara, Tissaia did not want to know what exactly had transpired after she left. She did not need the image of the rat having his paws all over her apprentice. Reluctantly, Tissaia looked up from her scroll.

Slowly closing the door behind her, Yennefer heaved a sigh and looked at the rectoress before holding up the Feainnewedd with a triumphant glint in her eyes, saying, “I did it, I got it from him.” Turning her attention back to her scroll, she whispered, “I know, I was there, even if you don’t know that.” The girl had not heard her words, yet she was taken aback by the woman’s disinterest in her achievement, she had hoped for a little bit more… more of what she probably couldn’t say herself.

Softly, the girl stepped forward and laid the purple flower down onto the text Tissaia was reading, but when the rectoress threw her a glance, she quickly stepped back three steps. Taking a deep breath, the rectoress got up and walked around her desk, willing herself not to think about what she had witnessed in the tower – or better, what she had missed seeing.

“What are you going to do with it?” The question surprised her, as she had never even hinted at having any actual use for the flower, because she didn’t. Especially not used. Keeping her back to her apprentice, she contemplated on what to answer, not to mention do, seeing as she didn’t need the flower, and keeping it here would raise questions if Stregobor came by. Yes, it would be beneficial if Yennefer kept the thing.

Whatever it was inside of her that made her blood boil upon the mere thought of her Yennefer being touched by Stregobor’s boy she locked away very quickly, as it was less than advantageous in the given situation. If she had to, she could analyse it later, when she actually had the time to do so. Pulling in another deep, yet discreet breath, she put a blank expression on her face, raised the Feainnewedd as though she was appraising her and turned to Yennefer, slowly and elegantly.

With a twitch of the corners of her mouth, she said, “nothing, I simply wanted to know if you could control yourself to get it from Is… the boy. And you did. Truth is, I have no use for it, so why don’t you keep it, as reminder of your success.” Holding it out to the girl, she waited patiently as the girl took it hesitantly, apparently thinking this was some kind of test, but it wasn’t.

“You may go, Yennefer,” she accentuated the girl’s name so it wouldn’t escape her notice while simultaneously turning her back again, looking down on her scroll and removing an imagined dust speck from her desk. She hated dust, and though she knew that her office was meticulously clean at all times, she couldn’t help but still see a bit of it whenever she was in an uncomfortable situation.

But the girl was particularly brave this night, pushing a bit more than was good for her and taking a step forward again, asking, “does this mean I get to ascend?” Tissaia should have known that the girl would take her whole hand if offered but a finger, but she hadn’t. For once, she hadn’t seen it coming, the bold nature that was Yennefer.

She did not answer her. Instead, she turned around halfway to look at her young apprentice, the look on her face as questioning as it was daring the girl for more boldness. And she did not disappoint this time, either, saying how she was ready. Tissaia wanted to doubt that very much, and she did. She knew that, just because the girl had controlled herself once in order to get something that was promised to her should she succeed, did by far not mean she really had what it takes. There was much of Tissaia’s younger self in the girl.

Far too much for her own good, actually. The girl was not particularly mutable, either, no. She was rigid in her ways, set so surely that she wouldn’t change, that she would always stay this impulsive and hot-headed, Tissaia couldn’t teach her anything different because she didn’t want to be taught anything else. If the rectoress let her ascend, there would be war, she knew that, someone would die, and it wouldn’t be pretty. Tissaia couldn’t let her ascend.

Having her decision in mind, she turned back around and adjusted the quill that lay close to her. Not daring to look at her, she uttered, “listen for the knock.” After that, the girl finally left, with a spring in her step that she hadn’t had in a long time, and Tissaia couldn’t be sure if it was because of her thinking she’d ascend or because of the rat boy. When she was finally gone, Tissaia wandered back around her desk and let herself fall into her armchair unceremoniously.

She put her face in her hands and sighed heavily, not quite able to deal with the situation. Never before had she had so much trouble sorting out the girls before ascension, and she didn’t have trouble with any apprentice now either, except for her. What was so special about Yennefer that putting her into the pond in the form of an eel seemed so difficult? The rectoress didn’t understand.

It clearly wasn’t the fact that it had been Tissaia who had gathered her from her former home, as she got most girls after their conduit moments, that was not it. If they had some sort of special bond, then Tissaia did not understand where it came from. Because the girl was part elf? That was hardly unusual at Aretuza or among sorcerers. A member of the chapter was a pure-blooded elf, even. It couldn’t be her tragic backstory with an imbecile of an adoptive father either, since many of her girls came from homes where they had been abused.

That left Tissaia with one possibility: The girl reminded her of herself. The rectoress had made the comparison herself but a week ago, surprising the girl as much as herself by admitting that she could be as controlled by Chaos as Yennefer was. She herself had been just as wild too, and nobody in their right mind would’ve let her ascend. Except the rectoress at the time had let her ascend, curing her of her own maladies and gave her a position at the court of some long forgotten king.

Tissaia de Vries had been the same, and someone had put their faith in her abilities, that was the only reason for her to be at Aretuza today, the only reason for her survival. How could she possibly deny Yennefer something she so desperately needed, especially after having been shown mercy herself, no matter how long ago it happened? She could not live with herself if she were to do that.

But oh, the heartbreak she could save the girl from if she just turned her into an eel. Not all of it, of course. She would feel heartbroken and betrayed by Tissaia for being turned into a conduit for Aretuza, and Tissaia would have to live with that, of course. The rectoress could only guess whether Stregobor’s boy had already obediently given his report to his infallible master, making Ban Ard proud, or whatever lie it was Ban Ard’s rector fed the boy.

At some point, the knowledge about her blood would hurt the girl. Tissaia herself had suspected it when she first saw her at the farm, but she could only have been sure after having monitored her for a week after her attempted suicide, as the girl had thought back to her father now and again.

If only the girl had kept her mouth shut, Tissaia thought grievously, then her secret would’ve been safe. Her girls were everything to her, especially the most promising ones, so, naturally, she would’ve never told a living – or dead for that matter – soul about her true heritage, even though it was nothing to be ashamed of. But the girl had made this mistake, and whenever it came back to haunt her, she would do her best to help her life with the consequences.

* * *

It was quarter to midnight when she finally heard movement in the hallway before her room. The whole evening Yennefer had paced in her room, imagining what life would be like after ascension. She knew she could make her dream come true, she could be the greatest mage to have ever graced a court, it would be marvellous, everyone would desire her, desire to be her and listen to her advice.

Stopping her train of thought, she turned her mind towards Istredd. The boy had kissed her today, despite her hump, despite her being hideous and part elven, he knew her deepest secrets and had still kissed her. She couldn’t help but triumph about it. In one day, she had fulfilled the task given to her by Tissaia that would grant her the greatest destiny of all and had, while doing that, also proven her mentor wrong, Yennefer had proven that someone did love her.

If only Tissaia had seen it… Yennefer would give many things for her to see the look on her rectoress’ face when she found out. Then again, the woman had been colder than usual today, so maybe she had read her thoughts? Maybe she had been angry about having made a mistake when it came to Yennefer. The more she thought about it, the surer she was that she was right.

Tissaia was mad about Istredd. Istredd, who had been nothing but kind to her since she had first portalled into Tor Lara by accident. Istredd, who had accepted her the way she was, with all her maladies and deformities. Istredd, who had always cheered her up whenever Tissaia had torn her down. He had proven that she could not destroy her, that Tissaia had not as much power as Yennefer thought she had.

She dreamed of her possible future with Istredd, with him in some ruins searching for hidden truths of the past, as always, and her by the side of a king, preferably King Virfuril of Aedirn. She saw it clearly in front of her inner eye, she would have everything she ever desired. Endless power, a loyal companion to love and hold, the envy of her enemies.

And yet the thought of her being with Istredd for the rest of her life still didn’t sit quite right, it was as if deep down her heart desired something better, some higher being that had yet to be revealed. But of that, Yennefer was scared. Who could guarantee that this higher being her heart seemed to wait for would actually love her? Nobody, so why not settle in the meantime, or so she thought. If only Istredd’s passion was something other than rocks and dustpans, something exciting.

When a knock, closely followed by Tissaia’s voice calling on Anica, sounded in the hallway, she was torn out of her thoughts and forced herself to concentrate on listening intently. Heels clicked closer to her door, it had to be Tissaia, Yennefer thought, she could tell the rectoress’ walk apart from any other steps in this Fortress, had listened to the confident clicks of heels often enough to know the rhythm that almost sounded like a dance.

But the heels, after having paused shortly in front of her door, turned and continued down the corridor, instead holding in front of Doralis’ room, Tissaia’s clear and determined voice ringing out without the slightest shadow of hesitation. After that, she went even further away and eventually faded, the timid steps of her classmates and friend, Anica, following soon after.

Hurt and confused, Yennefer took the Feainnewedd into her hands and looked at it, trying to remember every detail from her earlier conversation with Tissaia, searching for clues that Tissaia hadn’t been honest about her being able to ascend. She didn’t find any, the woman had been more than hesitant, yes, but that didn’t mean she’d lie to her, or at least Yennefer hoped so.

She started pacing. She was mad, not thinking clearly, on the edge of doing something stupid when she suddenly stopped in the middle of her room, having an idea, or rather a question: What if this was a test, too? Rather than wasting more time thinking about their conversation, she recalled the names the rectoress had called instead of hers. Doralis would never ascend before Sabrina did, and Sabrina was in the room next to her, sleeping peacefully as Tissaia had never called for her to follow the girls wherever it was they had gone.

Acting on impulse, but not out of anger, she followed the vague direction they’d gone to. As it turned out, they were going down a set of stairs that Yennefer had been interested in but, until this point, never taken. Aretuza was full of secrets, yet she didn’t take the proper time to go on adventures. Maybe she should spend less time with Istredd after all.

She stopped on a small staircase next to a small hole in the wall that was on just the right height for her to look through. Keeping a cool head, she watched the scene unfold in front of her. Tissaia stood in the middle of a strip of stone that was surrounded by water, in front of her were Anica, Doralis and Lark.

The rectoress was speaking in Elder, or rather calmly chanting something, and Yennefer only understood parts of it. Her Elder wasn’t perfect yet and she currently stood too far away to get the words right without being confused by the slight echo.

Doralis was standing to her left, clutching her doll as always and Yennefer couldn’t help but wonder if the girl would ever grow up and let go of that ridiculous toy of hers. She looked scared though, really scared, and Yennefer was worried for a second until she remembered that Doralis was afraid of everything, even black cats.

Anica, directly opposite of Tissaia, however, wasn’t entirely sure of the whole situation she’d gotten herself into either. Looking around nervously, scared of the water she could theoretically fall into any second now. Yennefer could see that she was uncomfortable and clearly wanted to be elsewhere, and she started to wonder what exactly the plan was here.

Assuming Tissaia had one in the first place. Of course, there had to be some sort of plan, Tissaia de Vries would never do anything without even the slightest bit of plan in mind, Yennefer knew her too well to expect anything like that. The question was: What exactly was the plan if she didn’t even care about her apprentices’ obvious discomfort?

The only one who wasn’t scared at all was Lark, strangely enough, but it only took one look at her posture and the relaxed features of her face to guess that Tissaia had actually put her under a calming spell like she had with her on their initial way to Aretuza. Except Lark also had a spark of wisdom to her, almost as though she knew something the other two on the stone next to her didn’t.

Yennefer noted that there had been several repetitions to what Tissaia had said before the woman raised her hand and gestured at Doralis, again speaking Elder. To the girl’s shock, her classmate let go of the doll and shrunk, taking on a sickly yellowish colour. When she was done changing, whatever she had become was hidden by the clothes she had worn but a moment ago.

Trying to stay calm, the girl told herself that this was probably some silly exercise to finally get those girls’ magic to work properly, as they were basically the worst in class, since Doralis had been hit by the lightning instead of capturing it as was the task. Tissaia was just doing this to help them, she was sure. And even if not, it was not like she was all that fond of any of the three standing there. It would be a shame about Anica though, the girl with a fear of drowning had been a good friend to her.

Tissaia, in the meantime, had repeated her gesture and incantation and the other two were gone now too. Then, without turning around, she commanded, “come forth, Yennefer.” Curious as to what was going on, she followed the command complacently and stood under the archway of stone. Now that she could see properly, she was a bit shocked, realizing that maybe, just maybe, Tissaia wasn’t doing this to help her classmates, after all.

“You turned my friend into a slug,” she uttered, staring at the slimy thing that lay where Anica had stood mere moments ago. Slowly turning, Tissaia corrected, “an eel. Come now, girl, push them into the pool.” She said it with so little compassion that now Yennefer was sure that there was no altruistic motive behind her actions. Pushing Anica, no matter in what form, into water? The poor girl would have a heart attack, eel or not.

She refused, but Tissaia insisted and Yennefer, in an effort to win time, approached the middle of the strip slowly, taking in the scene around her. Tissaia seemed tense, more so than usual, as if anticipating her reaction. As though this was her last test, Yennefer thought. The rectoress wanted to see how she acted under pressure when asked to make a sacrifice, or something like that.

When the girl didn’t object anymore, Tissaia told her that, while not in control anymore, the girls that she transformed still possessed power. Putting two and two together, Yennefer looked up at her in understanding, saying, “she’s a conduit. One you need for Aretuza, right?” Tissaia hummed approvingly, seemingly pleased with Yennefer’s ability to think on her feet.

Cautiously, as though she didn’t want to frighten Yennefer, Tissaia approached her, searching something in her eyes before whispering, “sometimes the best thing a flower can do for us is die.” The girl understood what she meant. Anica wouldn’t die when pushed into the pool, she would continue on living, just in another form, giving the students of Aretuza the opportunity to learn and make the best of their life.

It was still sad for Yennefer, though, as she had hoped to stay in contact with Anica after leaving this school, which she wanted desperately, and she had known that this was Anica’s wish too. But now, in the form of an eel, there was no way for Anica to ever escape, and the girl pitied her for that. Looking into Tissaia’s eyes with a steadfast gaze, she nodded her understanding.

Tissaia, who, judging by the rarely seen twinkle in her eyes, was glad that her apprentice understood so effortlessly, turned around and slowly went over to a little nook by the entrance, taking out a small, somewhat broom like tool made of willow. Gliding elegantly towards Yennefer, she offered it to her and the girl willingly, though definitely not gladly, accepted. It had to be done. There was no changing what has been done now, and if she didn’t push her in, Tissaia would, and at least Yennefer would do it gently.

And so she did, she pushed them in, one after the other, first Lark, then Doralis without her doll, and at last Anica. As she knelt on the edge, she asked herself whether her parents thought about her, missed her. Anica had clearly missed them, as she had always talked about home and visiting her parents again as soon as she could leave. Then again, did it matter? Yennefer didn’t know them, she couldn’t tell them even if she wanted to. The girl had to live in the present instead of mourning those that were gone.

With that thought, she turned around, looking at Tissaia, who stood elegantly as ever by the archway and watched her with apparent interest. When Yennefer had accepted the tool, she had nodded approvingly, and now she stood there, giving her the widest smile she had ever seen on the woman’s face. It was as though she was happy about something, though Yennefer didn’t know what that would be. She was not privy to the thoughts of her mentor, and that was perfectly acceptable, it was none of the girl’s business anyway, and she knew that.

Without needing to say another word, the rectoress turned and gathered her dress as she walked up the long staircase, not looking back at her once. Smiling, Yennefer went back to watching the eels that had appeared in the small pond after she pushed the other three in. There were hundreds of them, or so it seemed, but Yennefer didn’t really care.

She briefly wondered who they had been, what their lives had been like, but she didn’t bother thinking too hard about it. They had probably been in there long enough that even Tissaia had forgotten all about them.

Yennefer stood, smile on her face, heart light as never before, and turned to get back to her room. Tomorrow would be a new day, and she had class, so she better get to bed now. Coming to class without sufficient sleep was not an option for her, since she had to be able to concentrate on the things Tissaia was actively not telling them. Just because she might’ve done well this day, did not mean she would willingly perform badly the next, which would be the undoing of her success so far. Yennefer had plans to get to, goals to achieve, she couldn’t afford a day of relaxation just yet.


	4. The Enchantment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tissaia curses Giltine and Stregobor and Yennefer is her impulsive self!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither characters nor story/dialogue belong to me. I make no profit off of this and no copyright infringement was intended. (One of these days I should copy-paste that sentence)  
> Here you go, another week passed! Have a little bit angst and protective Tissaia. This is the first chapter to go off-canon, so to speak. Enjoy!

Half a year had gone by since Tissaia had told Yennefer to push Aretuza’s new conduits into the pool. Since then, the rectoress had noted that Yennefer’s visits to the tower had increased, once she even contemplated reprimanding her for it. Then, however, she had heard rather than seen what she was doing with Stregobor’s boy and had thought better of it.

As rectoress of Aretuza, she did have a certain amount of responsibility for her students, but those students also had to make their own decisions. If the girl got herself into trouble with the boy, then she’d have to help her out. But until then, Tissaia liked to pretend that nothing was going on, because what – or better who – Yennefer did in her free time was none of her business and she did not want to think about it for reasons she still had to confront herself with.

Tissaia was taking care of some paperwork in her office when she started to grow restless, suddenly feeling the urge to be somewhere else. Taking a look outside, she wondered which of the girls might be with Giltine at the moment. The sorcerer was a real artist, he had a way with clothes at least, and the preparation of the enchantment was something he could do in his sleep.

The rectoress got up and abandoned her papers, locking the door behind her dutifully and putting a protection spell on it. To her knowledge, Stregobor had been looking for an excuse to come to Aretuza for a while, and the last thing the sorceress needed was him digging through her files.

Her feet led her to Giltine’s workroom. Calling it an office wouldn’t have fit with all the dresses lying around, only covered by a glamour charm. The man had always wanted to impress the girls, or at least seem less chaotic.

As she approached, she took in the state of the room. To anyone else, the only things visible in it was the mirror, stood in the middle of the room, and the small ring of fire around it, giving the room the perfect lighting.

It had taken her about one second to realize that he was currently working with Yennefer, who held up a light grey dress against her frame. When the girl looked up, their eyes met in the mirror, and Tissaia saw a spark of reluctance mixed with some underlying fear in her apprentice’s eyes.

“Ah, the true mistress, how good of you to join us. This is not the final look, as you know, just a preview,” the sorcerer explained redundantly. The rectoress appraised the girl for a moment before she nodded faintly. Forcing herself back into reality, she looked at her colleague and, with a tilt of her head, asked him to leave them. After bowing his head, he fled the room, no questions asked.

Carefully approaching Yennefer, Tissaia gently pressed against her back and said with her even voice, “there’s not a person alive who does not look into the mirror and see some deformity.” The rectoress looked at the profile of the girl’s face. She showed her insecurity openly now, which was so unlike her, the girl normally wasn’t showing any signs of trust, especially not to her. Tissaia knew this was not the time for ridicule in any way, so she chose to try and build her up instead.

“We are the only exception to this rule, Yennefer. We get to remake ourselves on our terms, and the world gets no say in it. And they will never again make a victim out of you.” Tissaia emphasized this in the hopes of dispersing some of the girl’s doubt. While she succeeded, the girl was still troubled and looked back at her, saying she didn’t know where to start while covering her stomach anxiously.

A small smile appeared on her face, remembering the time when she had stood there and said something similar to her own mentor. Still, she was glad that there was a little trick for those who were similarly unsure of what they wanted.

“Close your eyes,” Tissaia said softly and took a step back, careful to not to move too quickly so the girl, that had started leaning into her, would not fall over. She hovered over to the other side Yennefer’s and, when the girl had not done as she was told, whispered insistently, “I said close them.”

When Yennefer finally did as she was told, the rectoress looked at her intently, saying, “imagine the most powerful woman in the entire world, Yennefer. Picture her, from her hair to the colour of her eyes, but also the strength of her posture. See the poise of her entire being. Can you see her?” They were standing close, and Tissaia could feel a small shiver running through Yennefer as the girl smiled shyly and nodded, breathing out an affirmation.

Gently she brought her left hand up to Yennefer’s hair and put index- and middle finger on the surface of the mirror, making the image in the girl’s head appear. When she saw it, she couldn’t help but tilt her head and smile fondly. Recovering from the slip of her mask, she moved further behind Yennefer, so far that she wouldn’t pay her any mind upon seeing her reflection. Tissaia didn’t think it would do to have the girl see the fondness in her eyes.

“Open your eyes, she’s stunning.” When the girl did, her face lit up with delight and wonder. When the girl asked if she would look like that, if she could, Tissaia said, “yes, Yennefer. As I said, we remake ourselves on our terms, and ours only.” The rectoress looked at the woman in the mirror for a long moment before whispering, “you’ll be the most beautiful Aedernian in generations, don’t you worry. Now if you’d excuse me, I need to get ready for a meeting with the chapter.” She turned and left the room without looking back.

* * *

The meeting of the chapter was held at Tor Lara, in the chamber that was ideal for meetings, though nobody knew whether that had been intentional or not. Not much was known about the way the elves had lived here before them. At some point in history, all of the tower – except for the very top – had been put under a powerful enchantment, preventing anyone from using magic within the building.

That had been done for safety reasons. For one, Tor Lara had been build to be a portal, originally, and it was said to have been connected to Tor Zireael, the Tower of the Swallow. That portal, however, had proven to be quite unstable to the point where it anyone experimenting with it had put themselves in mortal danger.

There was, however, also the fact that the members of the chapter didn’t always see eye to eye, and in order to prevent unnecessary deaths, the blockade had been installed so that they couldn’t hex each other. Tissaia very much appreciated that, taking into account her hateful relationship with Stregobor. How did one like a man who was killing girls just because they had been born during a solar eclipse? Tissaia would never understand that.

By now, all members of the chapter had arrived, filling the twelve seats that had been arranged to form a circle in the middle of the room. Stregobor had arrived last, looking quite a bit flustered and frustrated, and the rectoress couldn’t help but think that it had been one of her better ideas to put an extra protection spell over her office. He would ruin something for her today, she could feel it.

As all the members sat down, one of the servants brought their preferred drinks and handed a goblet to each of the members, except for Tissaia, as the woman had stated to them that she would not be needing anything. She watched patiently as the others slowly took their seats, Stregobor already rigidly sitting opposite to her own armchair. When all were seated, she started the fire in the middle that served as a source of light and warmth, since both were hard to come by in Tor Lara.

Before coming up the tower, Tissaia had chosen a different dress, one that reminded more of a travel cloak than anything else. She had the desire to not be here, even though it was just a regular chapter meeting like all the others, and that had played into her choice of style, even if she didn’t know it herself. Though she should’ve noticed that she was, indeed, the only one wearing gloves. Not that the others would ever object to anything she was wearing, they had no reason to, at least not at this particular moment.

Taking her seat among her colleagues, she quietly braced herself for what was to come in this last meeting before her girls’ ascension and the big ball. With her arms covered by her woolen dress she adopted the same friendly and open posture, resting them on the armrests and therefore exposing her body. In contrast to the others, however, she chose to cross her legs, making her more comfortable.

“Welcome back to the island Thanedd, esteemed colleagues. Let me start off our meeting by addressing the matter of Cintra, as they continue their animosity towards our organization.” Tissaia started off with an issue that all of them knew too well and had, by now, become a topic of ridicule. Something Artorius Vigo from Beauclair had welcomed and adopted, for he was the one to mockingly say, “don’t tell me they’re employing druids or worse – fortune tellers.”

A low chuckle had escaped his throat and the others joined in without hesitation. Tissaia, on the other hand, had to force her chuckle as she did not find this to be a laughing matter at all. In fact, it was very dangerous that King Dagorad had banned the mages from his country, as she told them, even though he did not have ample reason to do so.

Stregobor, being the naïve gossip he had been for decades, pointed out that there were rumours spreading, rumours that the King had taken ill. He even went so far as to suggest they could make amends with the princess who would take over the throne, but Tissaia interrupted him with a sliver of humour in her voice, saying, “Calanthe? Good luck with that, according to the rumours, she is even more stubborn than her father is.”

She made a point out of making as much eye contact with every member of the chapter as possible, except for Stregobor. The rectoress knew the only way to keep a cool head was by not looking at him.

As though he sensed that they would not reach a solution to this problem very easily, or maybe out of some twisted plan between him and Stregobor, Artorius changed the subject, asking Vanielle of Brugge about Nilfgaard. Tissaia noted that Vanielle was the only one who had a similar posture, with her crossed legs and her arms resting comfortably in her lap. Anyone who didn’t know her – or the basic ins and outs of body language – would see her as the epitome of relaxation. The rectoress knew better.

Ever the diplomat, Vanielle reported about how “excitable” Fergus was. The somewhat amused smile on her face gave her an air of indifference, but everyone in the chapter knew it was a façade. Her words had been carefully chosen as well, as though she did not want to set off any unnecessary discussions.

Stregobor did not mind being crude and therefore said what she was too well mannered to speak aloud, while also pointing out the poor conditions the people of Nilfgaard had to live under. Sadly, Tissaia could not argue with the fact that King Fergus paid no mind to his people’s needs and would rather spend his money on the worldly pleasures.

“Fringilla will be there before the week is out, then peace and sanity will be restored by the food she will be redirecting the people’s way,” said Tissaia, looking at the other chapter members imploringly, hoping to diffuse the situation. She did not want to talk about Nilfgaard this close to ascension, she feared it would only bring trouble.

Stregobor burst out in a fit of calm protest, “your girl is, and I mean no offense-“ Tissaia couldn’t help but wonder why he’d cause it, then – “but your niece, Artorius, cannot think for herself and is only ever relying on orders given to her by higher authorities.” Which was exactly what the chapter made Tissaia teach the girls, obedience, so she could not fathom where his problem with too much of it came from all of a sudden. He looked apologetic enough, and yet Tissaia couldn’t stop herself from thinking that he was not yet done with his troublemaking.

Artorius, though it was clear the remark had hit a soft spot, remained calm and thought for a moment. Then, as though having found a way to benefit from the insult, he stated, “no ambitious mage wants to be assigned anywhere south of Sodden, not even in Toussaint, much to my dismay. Nilfgaard, however, really does need correcting.” Artorius looked up at Vanielle, whose face had taken on a carefully neutral expression, though Tissaia could tell that she, too, did not like what was coming.

Sighing as though he was thinking hard about this, he continued by suggesting they should send someone else, a girl with a little more spine, and proceeded to ask Stregobor of his opinion despite the fact that the man had never so much as spoken to her girls. If anyone should be asked which of her girls was best suited for Nilfgaard, it should’ve been her. Upon Artorius’ question, Stregobor’s face had taken on a disgustingly smug expression, almost as though he’d won a battle only he was aware of.

He turned to Tissaia, a dangerous glint in his eyes, and asked, “what about your hunchback protégé, how is her spine?” Tissaia was tempted to spit in his face that, after her ascension, Yennefer’s spine would be fine enough to tear him into little pieces. The audacity that man had.

With a slight shake of the head, she pointed out, “we agreed that Yennefer would thrive in Aedirn, as was promised to her. King Virfuril prefers mages from his kingdom, and her name isn’t Yennefer _of Vengerberg_ for nothing.” She pleaded with all the other members of the chapter to see sense, since Stregobor clearly didn’t have any of his own.

Of all the cards Stregobor possibly could’ve played, Tissaia had to admit she did not see this one coming as he said, “oh but wouldn’t we be spitting in Dagorad’s face if we send her? Aedirn is Cintra’s biggest trade partner, and what do they hate more than us mages? That’s right, elves.” He kept his eyes mostly on Tissaia, knowing that he had the chapter’s rapt attention without having to give his to them, and as the woman processed the words he had just spoken, it dawned on her that she had lost.

She was in shock, not quite believing what was currently transpiring and barely stopping her jaw from dropping more than the few millimeters it already had. Eyes slightly widened and pinned on Stregobor in disbelief, she anxiously waited for the fallout of his words. From the moment she witnessed Yennefer telling his rat about her blood she had known it would someday come back to haunt her, and that the girl would then have to live with her mistakes. But Tissaia could not stand idly by and watch this happen, she could not let them send her Yennefer to someone like King Fergus.

“Quarter elf,” she spit in Stregobor’s direction when Artorius’ interest led him to ask about it, eyes never straying from the menace, her breathing growing heavily. It was a desperate attempt at rescuing what was already lost, she knew that, and yet she tried. Her hands clenched into fists, she could barely hold anger and desperation from showing on her face.

“Watch a Cintran do that math,” was Stregobor’s petulant response. Tissaia was not prepared to give this up without a fight. With desperation barely kept out of her voice, she implored her fellow colleagues not to model their wisdom on prejudice, not to speak of paranoia, asking if they truly didn’t know better.

“Paranoia or not, Cintra has operated outside of our influence for far too long now, even you cannot deny that,” Artorius shot back in a patronising voice, saying it as though she was younger than him despite the fact that Tissaia was, in fact, much older.

Seeing that this was a losing battle, something other than shock and anger came over her, something she could not quite name, she only knew that its grip on her heart was cold as ice and it made her feel like she couldn’t breathe. When Stregobor made the point that unchecked kings and queens led to massacres, she fell back on a crude tactic and mocked him for still being afraid of Falka after all these years.

After that she turned to Artorius and told him that there wasn’t enough fragrance in his beloved Toussaint to cover the stench of the nepotism he exercised by sparing his niece her duties. All the while, her fists clenched harder as she awaited the final blow, which came in the form of Artorius asking for a vote from which he excused himself. Seeing the other’s cast their vote in favour of sending Yennefer to Fergus made Tissaia despair even more, knowing that she had truly lost to Stregobor this time, and at the expense of her apprentice, too.

Breathing heavily, barely containing her anger and disgust, she stood up, promptly ending this sham of a meeting and stormed out.

* * *

Yennefer was currently standing in front of her mirror, holding up her dress against her and making up possible situations of her meeting King Virfuril of Aedirn. She couldn’t wait for the rest of her life to start, to finally be free of Aretuza and spend her time at court, making big decisions.

And small decisions, like her wardrobe. The dress Giltine had given her was beautiful beyond measure, that much was true, of course. The girl was extremely thankful to be given a dress by an artist like him, but she couldn’t help but think that light grey really wasn’t her colour. Like Istredd, it just didn’t really fit.

A short knock sounded at her door and someone came in. Turning around, she realized that it was Giltine, holding something red in his hands. He looked at her with regretful eyes, heaving a sigh before saying that King Fergus had chosen the red thing, not him.

“King Fergus of Nilfgaard,” she inquired while taking the hideous thing with a red bow on it, examining it closely. The fabric was ordinary, the colour screaming for the wrong kind of attention. Red was not Yennefer’s colour, never would be.

She wanted to know what he was talking about, despite already having an inkling as to what was going on. Instead of giving her an answer, he just looked at her with an open mouth, seemingly contemplating what would be best for him to say. Carefully crafting his sentences so he wouldn’t anger the apprentice any more than he apparently had already.

As soon as he admitted what had transpired, she dropped the sorry excuse for a dress and stormed out of her room, taking the somewhat familiar path to Tissaia’s office. That it was familiar to her at all said a bit about how much trouble she had made, though, and her talent, seeing as Fringilla had needed servants to guide her way the two times she was summoned by her.

Not even bothering with being polite, she just let herself in – only after checking for protective spells, of course, she didn’t want to land on her arse – and waltzed into the office, taking in the scene in front of her. Tissaia was smoking a pipe, which was something Yennefer had never seen her do before, she had never even seen the pipe she was holding.

The woman didn’t flinch when she was interrupted in the middle of her reading process, and until Yennefer demanded an audience with the chapter, she didn’t even look up. Blowing out the smoke from the pipe slowly, the woman behind her desk raised her eyebrows and emptied the pipe into the ashtray, eyes straying to her book she said, “I handle court assignment, Yennefer, not the Chapter.”

The girl watched her lay down the pipe before refocusing on the book in front of her. “You promised me Aedirn,” she said with all the disappointment of a child that had been promised a toy and got a piece of wood instead. Without batting an eye, the sorceress said that she was forced to reconsider based on new items she had earlier not been privy to.

“There’s no power in puppeting fools,” Yennefer protested violently, “especially not one that would sooner fondle his sorceress than listen to her!” She knew she was probably on thin ice, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. This was her future that was being ruined. Tissaia seemed to know this, too, as she faltered at her apprentice’s words for a moment. She did not only falter, she finally looked up from her book, though she didn’t look into Yennefer’s eyes.

Her mouth was agape, and she actually looked regretful, or at least that’s as close as Yennefer could hope to get to identifying her mentor’s look. Quickly closing her mouth, the rectoress looked up at the young woman in front of her, her usual cold mask in place again, even her eyes weren’t giving anything away.

“There were no new items, were there? The chapter overruled you… the great sorceress Tissaia de Vries, knocked from her glass pedestal.” It had been a shot in the dark at first, with Yennefer not being sure if she wasn’t way of in reality. But when her mentor’s head had dipped after the mention of the chapter, the apprentice had no doubts.

With a hint of pity in her eyes, the rectoress whispered the explanation that it had been her blood and that the momentary political situation meant the brotherhood couldn’t risk placing a sorceress with elven blood in Aedirn’s court.

Over time she had come to trust the woman, she had saved her from a life as a farmhand, after all, had given her the chance at a golden future. Why had she kept the secret this long just to make it her downfall now? If she had told on that secret, Yennefer didn’t want to know what she had done with her other secrets that had been revealed to the rectoress over time. With eyes wide in disbelief, Yennefer stared at her, asking, “how could you tell them?”

Tissaia stood up swiftly, not ready to let Yennefer think she had betrayed her, hadn’t fought for her, she let out a short, shaky breath before whispering in a firm voice, “I did not, I wouldn’t have. Stregobor did, and I think we both know who he had that information from.”

Yennefer just stood there, her mind reeling, trying to make sense of all of it. While she stood there in silence, Tissaia rounded her desk and came to a halt in front of her, eyes searching her face for any emotion, her own face soft and full of understanding. “Why would he do that,” murmured the young girl, eyes kept to the ground, wanting to understand.

When she looked up, she saw something akin to pain in Tissaia’s eyes. She stood close enough to see the woman swallow before saying, “Stregobor has known me long enough to hate me, he wants to get rid of me or at least hurt me, and he figured that the best way to do that was through hurting you. And I’m sorry, had I seen it coming I would…-“ Tissaia slowly raised her hand and caressed Yennefer’s cheek, whipping away a stray tear – “I sooner would’ve killed him than let him do that to you. I’m about as fond of the idea of having you in Nilfgaard as you are, Yennefer.” The girl did not know what had possessed her to turn around and leave Tissaia who was raising her voice so that the rest of her words could reach her, but something inside her urged her to run from the situation, and so she did.

* * *

Yennefer was raging like a storm, barely in control of herself anymore, and she knew if Tissaia saw her like this she would probably be locked away for her own safety. She had just had a most interesting conversation with Istredd, during which she discovered that the boy really was dense. Of course, she had manipulated him most of their time spent together, yet she found it pathetic how little clue he had.

He had accused her of patronizing him, but she couldn’t really be blamed for that since it had been that easy, and she also couldn’t be blamed for “spying” on him for Tissaia, as he had put it, because it had been about her future. He would’ve ascended anyway, as Stregobor’s golden boy. But just because Tissaia had chosen her herself didn’t mean she got to ascend by default.

She had asked him to tell the chapter it had all been a lie, but instead, he proposed they both be dusting off bones for the rest of their lives. He had been highly offended when she told him that would be slow suicide. It got worse when he talked down on what Tissaia had taught them. It was much more than a game of chess, if he did not see that then who was he to talk down on her mentor when his own was known for killing babies?

It all ended when she had to explain to him that it was not beauty she was after, but power, and she would get it, no matter the cost. The argument had been ugly, and Yennefer left with one certainty and one doubt. The certainty that she would be beautiful, powerful enough to get away with anything. And the doubt that was left by their more or less break up – maybe Tissaia had been right in telling her that she would never be loved after all.

But she had no time to think about that as she stormed into the room where the enchantments had been held mere hours ago. Looking around, she found herself lucky that only Giltine was there and not Tissaia herself. Storming further into the room, she demanded him to perform the enchantment.

“The chapter would have my head, young Lady, I’d very much like to keep it,” he joked with a lopsided smirk on his face. Furiously she stepped closer, mocking him by growling, “well at least that way you’d get to see your balls again, wouldn’t you?” At first, he laughed, then he realized what she had said. Weakly he tried objecting, saying that Tissaia was the one making the girls living works of art, he only prepared the herbs for sleeping and performed the basic surgery.

“You have seen how she does it? Yes? So you can do it yourself, everyone starts somewhere,” she bit back, telling him she didn’t need herbs despite his insistence. Nervously, he closed the straps that were to hold her in the chair during the procedure, he was visibly anxious and uncomfortable, but he got over it and started with the surgery after Yennefer had nodded her understanding about the cost of enchantment.

It hurt like hell, but Yennefer did not regret her decision to start immediately rather than waiting to be found out, even as she screamed so loud that she began to worry the guests of the banquet might hear her on the other side of the building. She would never admit this to anyone, but secretly she longed for someone to be there for her at this moment, as was natural when a human being was in this amount of pain. Pain was terrifying, but it could also purge.

As Giltine cut out her womb, she briefly wondered whether she’d need that thing after all, but she had quickly decided power was more important and had given into the pain, the fires around her practically exploding together with her voice.

When the sorcerer straightened up again, he walked to the one fire that burned at a normal rate and put her womb onto a tray, burning it until it took on the texture of burned coal. When the organ had blackened enough, he used mortar and pestle to make fine dust out of it before adding other ingredients to make a thick paste.

“Have you gone completely insane, Giltine?” The booming voice came from the entrance of the room, and Yennefer looked over to the frame, her pain distorting her eyesight severely, but she would know that voice anywhere. Tissaia was the one standing there, having found them before the enchantment had even really begun, and Yennefer asked herself what she was going to do.

The rectoress approached her, face whiter than usual, taking in the young woman’s appearance before turning to the sorcerer again, accusingly saying, “what have you done? This was not approved, neither by the chapter nor by me, why would you think I’d ever accepted you to do your first solo enchantment without my supervision? What possessed you?!” Giltine’s best answer was that Yennefer had made quite a compelling case.

Taking the mortar and brush from him, she hissed at him, telling him to go away before she could think of a punishment for him. Yennefer began to protest, wanted to beg Tissaia to let her have this one thing, but the rectoress interrupted her, saying, “shush, stupid girl. Why do you always have to defy me? What have I done to you that was so terrible for you to torture me every chance you get? Yes, yes, you’ll get your enchantment, silly girl. Even if you shouldn’t, I swear I’ll get into trouble for this.” Stunned, Yennefer decided not to say anything more about it.

No matter how hard she tried, though, she could not stop herself from asking her mentor, “how did you know I’d be here? Oh… did Giltine tell you –“ “that you want to keep your eyes and your scars? Yes he did,” interrupted the rectoress with a tense look on her face, taking in her appearance yet again, as though she expected Yennefer to somehow get worse. After looking at her contemplatively, she continued, “I knew you’d be here because we seem to have some sort of connection and I felt that you were in immense pain, knowing you I only had to guess twice what could’ve happened.” If this was her second guess, Yennefer decidedly did not want to know what the first one had been.

Tissaia warned her that, since she had foolishly refrained from taking any herbs, this was probably going to be the most painful experience in Yennefer’s life, and that she should worry more about her chance at survival rather than the result since Tissaia knew exactly what she wanted. Stubborn as she was, the young woman said she’d be fine.

With a soft shake of her head, the older woman began to administer the pitch-black mixture and chanted something in Elder. Her movements were quick and skilled, attesting to her decade long experience. Her voice had taken on a melodic tone, almost lulling Yennefer into a trance, but just almost, for then the pain started, and Tissaia had not exaggerated when it came to the severity.

Not knowing what else to do, she started screaming yet again, this time throwing herself against her restraints, trying to escape with the irrational hope of also escaping the pain. She vaguely registered that the pain was simply too much for her, as her consciousness shut down in intervals, making it impossible for her to maintain control.

Suddenly, she found herself free from her restraints, flying towards the floor, not caring that she would hit the hard stone floor, except she didn’t. Vaguely registering the strong arms that circled her, she instinctively started fighting them before drifting out of reality again.

When she next came to again, the strong arms were still firmly around her, holding her despite the fact that she was thrashing about, and even though everything hurt so much that she shouldn’t be feeling anything that touched her, she registered the soft fabric of a dress she found herself pressed against. A voice reached her ears as though from a far distance, hushing her, mumbling soothing things, telling her it would all be alright. In her delirium, Yennefer vaguely registered that it was Tissaia’s voice.

She drifted in and out of consciousness a few times more before finally awaking with nothing but a faint ache in her muscles. That was the first thing she noticed. The second and third were the two arms that still held her, though not with an iron grip anymore, but gentle, with one hand softly stroking her hair.

Slightly angling her head, she saw into Tissaia’s eyes, who was halfway propped up against the cold wall of the room, looking down at her with a faint smile on her face. “Well, good morning, sleeping beauty, I suggest we move you somewhere more comfortable.” Upon hearing that, Yennefer teasingly asked whether Tissaia meant to imply that she was weighing too much for her. A soft chuckle escaped the older woman’s lips before helping her up. No reply was needed, they both knew Yennefer hadn’t meant it, and just this once Tissaia didn’t want to enter into a verbal competition.

It had been hard to persuade the young sorceress that she needed to stay in bed, but Tissaia put her foot down, explaining, “your body has been through an ordeal and now it has to accept your new capacity for Chaos, which is something you’ll feel, but in the meantime, you need to rest, my girl, is that understood? Good. Now I really do have to get back to the banquet, no matter how much I wish not to.”

On the verge of sleep, Yennefer watched Tissaia move away from her bed and decided to call after her, glad when she came to a standstill. Quietly but stubbornly the young woman asked her not to steal the kill for Stregobor from her. Tissaia made not the slightest sound at that, and had it not been for the slight quiver in her shoulders, she’d have thought the sorceress had no humour at all.

* * *

Tissaia had only been gone for about two hours, she suspected that Yennefer would swear it had been longer, considering the amount of pain she had subjected herself to. As she re-entered the ballroom, she took in the scene, noting that all of the Kings and Queens had arrived and been paired up with their respective sorceresses and sorcerers. The rectoress was glad that Vanielle had agreed to take care of things when she had taken off so suddenly.

Before returning to the banquet, however, she had to return to her chambers to change into a clean dress without bloodstains. Yennefer’s enchantment had been traumatizing, not just for the girl. Never before had one of her girls needed to be held to prevent injury.

Resigning herself to her fate, she began to walk around the room and socialized with all the important figures and old friends. She briefly approached Queen Sancia, complementing her on Prince Foltest and Princess Adda, before quickly moving on. This Queen was known for being a termagant whenever she felt that she couldn’t get her way, if that was true, she did not envy those poor children.

But she now had more important things to do, as she had noted how Fringilla had looked embarrassed when King Virfuril led her away from the dancing crowd. Sovereignty like Sancia and Virfuril needed to be smiled at, unfortunately, so she plastered another one – a very forced one this time – over her face when she approached him, addressing him with ‘Your Excellency’ as was common.

All he granted her was a weak smile and the condescending comment on Fringilla’s footing, at which the young sorceress failed to suppress a sorrowful look and the rectoress’ smile vanished into a surprised mask, as she had not expected him to be quite this blunt.

Not knowing what else she could do, she conceded by saying, “I apologise for our failure to provide you with partner better suited to your needs.” Though she looked at Fringilla with an apologetic expression in her eyes, the King assumed she had been talking to him and said that it was truly a shame.

Taking her leave, she found solace among a small group of sorceresses, including Vanielle and Margarita Laux-Antille. Vanielle brought Tissaia up to speed, explaining who had arrived late and who was not coming at all, and reporting a minor incident between Fergus, King of Nilfgaard, and Sancia, Queen of Temeria. It had been resolved rather quickly, thanks to the sorceress’ general ability to talk sense into the young King.

“Tell me Tissaia, why did you leave so quickly?” She had been dreading this question, not quite ready to admit to another member of the chapter that she had just violated several of their rules regarding enchantment. The sorceress from Brugge was a close friend of hers and oftentimes saw things the same way as the rectoress did, but she’d rather not risk it right this moment, so she promised to tell her at a better time.

Leaving her friends to talk amongst themselves, Tissaia went on another round, watching the crowd carefully. Now and again, she had to break up minor disputes before they could turn into real fights, since these fights could potentially turn into wars in this room, and the chapter would not be pleased at all if that were to happen in Aretuza. She also kept an eye on Sabrina and her King from Kaedwen as they kept dancing freely, not minding anyone else in the crowd. The rectoress marvelled at the young sorceress’ stamina as she ended her round a good hour later.

Vanielle and Margarita had started talking about court gossip from Toussaint, as was to be expected for someone like Margarita who had no interest in real politics. Tissaia joined in, thinking that even gossip could prove useful in politics sometimes, even if it was about the tourney which had first been held under Duchess Ademarta, but had become tradition since in order to single out the best candidates to become knights of the Duchy.

Not even ten minutes into the conversation she felt something approach – not something, someone – and she turned to the door, smile falling from her face, tuning into the change that lay in the air. Into the source of power that approached through the doors that had just opened by themselves. She had felt Yennefer approach before she saw her, and now that she did, her breath caught in her throat and her heart skipped several beats.

Yennefer should technically be in bed, resting, but somehow her body didn’t seem to need much more rest, at least that’s what the young woman’s confident step and upright posture suggested. The rectoress wondered where she could’ve found such a stunning dress in such a short time, seeing as Giltine was probably still hiding from her in the kitchen. The dress was black, as was fitting for her raven hair, which now fell in smooth locks, not one of which looking out of place. The mermaid cut fit her perfectly, Tissaia thought, the fabric hugging her curves in all the right places while fanning out around her feet enough to let her walk freely.

The necklace she knew, for Tissaia had been the one to leave it next to the girl’s bed, the obsidian star with diamonds embedded in it, dangling from a velvet choker around her neck. Everything about her appearance was immaculate, yet that didn’t change the fact that she should simply not be here. Of course, Tissaia knew why she was, though, and it caused a sense of panic to surge through her.

As Yennefer set her eyes on her target, King Virfuril, who had noticed her entrance along with the rest of the fools filling this hall, Tissaia felt the lightest of touches on her arm, Vanielle leaning in and whispering, “who is that, Tissaia?” She bit back that Vanielle knew perfectly well who that stunning beauty was.

“But of course I know, the girl has your handwriting all over her, at least now you don’t have to tell me what you did anymore, only why – don’t bother Tissaia, we already lost that battle, he saw her, he’ll take her instead of Fringilla, the damage is done,” Vanielle’s whisper turned into a hiss in the end while she tried to stop Tissaia, who had recovered from her stupor, from going over to the King and her insolent former student.

She did not know what to do, all she knew was that she really didn’t want Yennefer to move halfway across the continent, never to be seen again, because Tissaia had no illusions about the fact that the woman would never return once she left. Tissaia wanted her close and couldn’t even explain why, so she excused her impulsive behaviour with not wanting to get into trouble with Stregobor, as dumb as that excuse may be. It was simply not true, and deep down she knew that, but she couldn’t get into that right now.

Hearing Yennefer introduce herself, seeing how Virfuril reacted to the beautiful woman that had appeared in front of him made her blood curdle within her veins and she felt like she was freezing. Trying to save what was already lost, she said, “apologies your excellence, please allow me to remove this foolish and misguided girl, as she should not be here.” But the sovereign didn’t even spare her a glance as he questioned what kind of king would refuse one of his subjects before directing his honeyed words at Yennefer, telling her that he had been looking for someone like her before leading her to the dancefloor.

Accepting her defeat, though she did so loathingly, she felt a wave of sorrow wash over her as she received one last look from Yennefer, one that spoke of indifference. Remembering that Fringilla had just lost her place in Aedirn, she patted her arm half-heartedly before turning to watch the intimate way Yennefer danced with the King, and it somehow felt like someone stabbed her heart with a dagger. Daggers was what Artorius glared at her after his niece stormed out of the hall, but she couldn’t care less about his displeasure right now.

As hostess, she didn’t have the freedom to just vanish from the room, so she continued to make sure her guests were happy while pointedly avoiding Artorius, Virfuril and Yennefer, not keen on interacting with either one of them, not sure if she even could. It took a long time until the banquet was finally over, and when it was, King Virfuril and Yennefer had long since vanished. The girl hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye before running away to court.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean come on guys, was I the only one to notice Tissaia suddenly not being behind her desk anymore when the office-scene ended with Yennefer storming out?


	5. Times of Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yennefer does a bit of reflecting before choosing an impossible goal, and Tissaia suffers through yet another Chapter meeting and has an impossible goal thrust upon her. She does not react well to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither characters nor story/dialogue belong to me. I make no profit off of this and no copyright infringement was intended.  
> Almost forgot it was Friday! Being on a break during Quarantine will do that to you, I guess. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Stay safe everyone!

Waves were softly lapping against the black sand of some volcanic beach on an Island close to the shore of Nazair, seagulls flying overhead as Yennefer stared out onto the great sea unseeingly. The events of the last few hours replayed in her head and she couldn’t help but feel personally betrayed. Yennefer knew it had been the Queen, Kalis, who had been betrayed by King Virfuril, not herself.

The sorceress had been sent to escort her to her winter home in Lyria and return to King Virfuril’s court afterwards. For days she sat in the carriage, next to the petulant, young Queen who constantly complained about how ungentle the ride war. Kalis was young, bratty and had given the King three girls, just like his first wife, who had disappeared mysteriously. Yennefer should’ve known.

She had not spoken freely when the Queen had ordered her to, instead telling her in a neutral tone how she loved having spent 30 years at court after giving up everything. When she said that she loved having thought it would be worth it, that it would be her legacy, Tissaia’s face appeared in her mind and, for the first time, she realized how wrong she had truly been. She may be the greatest mage to ever grace a court, but that was nowhere near legacy enough.

Before she could contemplate Tissaia’s significance in this, Kalis had begun to moan about how she had it far worse, and Yennefer was hard pressed not to roll her eyes. The sorceress was almost glad when what looked like a blade had cut through the carriage wall. That was until she realized it meant she’d have to do some actual work and protect the Queen. She had failed.

But how was she supposed to protect her when King Virfuril had been the one to send one of the best assassins after his own wife, and said assassin had brought his pet frightener with him. After the sorceress had teleported Queen Kalis across the continent for three times, the woman had gotten so infuriating that Yennefer simply decided to give King Virfuril his will and let her die, so she teleported herself to a field filled with flowers. It was a divine sight, and then she remembered: Queen Kalis had had her child with her, she couldn’t just let a child die at the… claws… of a frightener.

The Queen had already been dead when she returned, and it served her right, Yennefer thought, while bewitching the small frightener so it cut off its own head. Quickly taking the child from the ground – she truly didn’t want to know why it wasn’t in Kalis’ arms anymore – she opened a portal and jumped through, the assassin’s dagger piercing through the flesh of her shoulder. That’s how she had ended up on the beach, contemplating her life after having had to bury the small princess since she had not survived. Yennefer wasn’t entirely sure if it had been the water that killed her or the excessive use of portals.

She was convinced that King Virfuril didn’t want his dead daughter back, he cared little for the women in his family, Kalis had gotten that right, even if she only saw herself as affected. The fact that he had sent an assassin after his wife while Yennefer was charged specifically with protecting her was also message enough, and she knew she wouldn’t return to court either. Her king had clearly shown her that she had overstayed her welcome, even if he didn’t manage to rid himself of her completely. It was better that way, too.

Now she could work freely, on her own, make her own legacy. Much like Istredd had proposed to her 30 years ago, just without the forgotten bones because that would still be slow suicide. Istredd. This was one of the only times Yennefer had actively thought about him. The only times she had been forced to think about him was when he had begged to be able to study something in Aedirn. He had tried everything, dead languages, ruins, even geological abnormalities, but Yennefer had shot his requests down every time, simply unwilling to have him anywhere near her life again.

He had betrayed her in a way she could never forgive, and at first, she had tried to blame Tissaia, but it hadn’t been her and she knew it, the only thing she could fault the rectoress for was being Stregobor’s enemy. Yennefer, however, hated Stregobor too much to fault anyone for being his enemy, so she harboured no ill will towards the rectoress, at least not for that. In fact, she wished Istredd had been more like that in that regard, and it hurt that he didn’t. To him, Stregobor was infallible.

Now that she thought about it, she was curious whether he was still Stregobor’s lapdog, or if he had grown some balls and had become a man in the meantime. Truth be told she didn’t even really know where he was, not to mention what he was doing. She still found herself unwilling to forgive him, however, so she decided against sending him a letter. She didn’t need him, she needed a purpose. After countless lovers over the last three decades, Yennefer had learned that men never made for good life goals.

Maybe she should’ve stayed with Tissaia, the woman seemingly always knew what to do. It wasn’t the first time her thoughts wandered down that path, and as always, she came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t have done either of them any good. Yennefer loathed the rectoress and had done everything she could to defy her, gain her freedom.

They would’ve destroyed each other if she’d stayed at Aretuza, the way Tissaia had ignored her during the banquet after having tried to safe her ass from the brotherhood by throwing her out was all she needed as proof that the rectoress hated her too. In fact, Yennefer was convinced that saving her had to be Tissaia’s biggest regret.

They hated each other, and yet Tissaia was the only person she thought about from her time at Aretuza. Yennefer found herself at a loss when she tried to find out what significance Tissaia could possibly hold after 30 years. They hadn’t even had contact during that period, no contact of any kind.

The only news she’d gotten from Tissaia and Aretuza were those Triss had brought her. Yennefer and Triss had met at one of King Virfuril’s balls, shortly after the brunette’s ascension a few years after Yennefer had left Aretuza. Since then, they’d become best of friends and had stayed in contact, even though Triss worked closely together with the brotherhood.

Yennefer had found it odd that Triss described Tissaia’s aura to be one of a person who’s constantly shrouded in misery and darkness. It was odd because the sorceress remembered the rectoress to be quite balanced, a true neutral, even. Her curiosity was quite picked, especially since Triss always said no when she jokingly asked if Tissaia’s aura had changed yet. Technically she could visit and figure out what’s wrong herself, but she was too busy hating the woman because, for whatever reason, she did, she really did.

A vulture was circling above them, and she asked, “which one of us are you here for?” Then it hit her, a child. What better legacy than the child of a powerful sorceress, to walk the continent and continue her line. Not that her line was valuable enough to continue, and truth be told there was no saying which deformities the elven blood would curse her child with or if it would even have the ability to channel Chaos. But she had made up her mind already, so she conjured another portal and was on her way.

* * *

Another six years had gone by and Yennefer was no closer to reaching her goal, and she was getting frustrated. Currently, she found herself at the University of Metinna, trying to find anything that could help with her problem, but there seemingly was nothing. It astounded Yennefer how such a vast library could not provide one viable theory on how she could get her womb back. Even at the smaller library of the Oxenfurt University, there had been two leads, possibly even more.

Unfortunately, she had been banned from the city before she could do any more research. With an uncomfortable feeling, she thought back to the little temper tantrum she’d had when a scholar half her age started patronising her. It had ended with several windows bursting and the scholar’s… potency being indefinitely diminished. That had been one if the moments she had to think back to the rectoress, her words in Tor Lara all those years ago.

Yennefer let herself fall back in the uncomfortable library chair and huffed out a breath of discontent. She had in no way expected any of this to be easy, achieving dreams was never easy, especially when nobody else had ever done it before. Slowly looking around, she came to the conclusion that there was nothing left for her in Metinna, which only left her with one noteworthy university she hasn’t visited yet: the one in Nilfgaard. That was, however, too dangerous for her liking, seeing as she had been promised to King Fergus once. Though she wasn’t exactly sure if he was still King, as she had gotten out of the loop of politics over the last six years.

Gathering her belongings, she thought about what to do next. She had heard of one or two so-called sorcerers who claimed they could cure her affliction, as they called it, though she wasn’t too hopeful about that, but she had to try at least. First though, she’d travel through the lands, visiting all the old crones and retired scholars who were said to have books regarding magical topics. Granted there were many of them, but she had time, she was still young.

Remembering her dear friend Triss, she left out a piece of parchment and a quill, writing her a short note to let her know she was alive. She almost felt bad about not going into detail, but she had been quite vocal about her discontent with the brotherhood lately and as much as she trusted her dearest friend, she feared they might try to get information out of her. To find her and neutralize her in order to prevent further damage to their reputation. It would be drastic, but Yennefer certainly wouldn’t put it past them.

After making sure the letter would get to Triss safe, she took the few things she had and headed to the stables where she saddled her black horse. Since she didn’t trust the brotherhood, she had decided to use as little magic as possible on her travels in order to avoid being tracked. Touching her obsidian star, her last gift given to her by Tissaia, she made sure it was still on. Over the years she had given up on asking herself why Tissaia would give her something that would aid her in staying hidden, she wouldn’t find a satisfactory answer anyway.

* * *

Forty-six years had gone by since Tissaia had seen or heard from Yennefer, and each day she felt her misery and regret about that grow. Almost half a century and she was no closer to forgetting the woman with the violet eyes. After learning that Triss had become her close friend, she had started asking her whether she was okay on a regular basis while simultaneously commanding her never to mention that to Yennefer.

Forty-six years she had had to come to terms with the fact that she knew exactly what this bond between her and Yennefer, or apparently her bond to Yennefer, was. She had tried denying it for so long, oh so long. It was undeniable though, the heartbreak she had felt when Yennefer had taken her place at Virfuril’s court, had left her behind in Aretuza, when her Yennefer had chosen power over her. Undeniable was the panic she felt every time one of the chapter members started talking about her in discontent. She loved Yennefer, though she still denied it whenever she could, not willing to discover the true depth of her feelings.

And yet she missed her every single day, so terribly that she found herself thinking of her when she should be focusing on reports or other paperwork. She caught herself comparing her students to Yennefer, never finding one that was quite as good as her. More than once had she started to write a letter to the young sorceress, but every time she had ended up crumpling it up and throwing it into the bin.

“Tissaia?” Shaken from her thoughts, she gave Triss and Vanielle a questioning look. The two of them looked a bit worried, as Vanielle had for the past forty years when she had first noticed the changes in the rectoress’ behaviour. Not caring about the actual subject at hand, Tissaia impulsively asked Triss about whether she’d heard from Yennefer.

A regretful look entered the young woman’s face and she murmured, “no, haven’t since she left Metinna, you’ve seen the note she sent me. I’ve tried finding her but she is untraceable… and every time there’s a rumour about her being somewhere and I go, she’s long gone and the people she visited, old scholars and crones, have no idea where she was headed next.” Again Tissaia wondered what the sorceress could be searching for that she couldn’t simply search for in Aretuza’s library.

Vanielle pointed out, for what felt like the thousandth time, that Tissaia should just get over herself and write the girl a letter because she was clearly important, at which Triss looked confused. Up until now, Tissaia had always made an effort and hid her true desire of knowing how Yennefer was and additionally asked about other former students Triss knew. So now that Vanielle had said that, she perked up and watched with obvious curiosity.

Not minding her, Tissaia hissed, “keep it down, there are people around. And I will do no such thing, she made her position perfectly clear when she up and left without so much as a goodbye, I will not run after her, and you won’t do anything about it either!” To that, Vanielle just gave her an unimpressed look and commented that, as always, she wouldn’t. And Tissaia knew she spoke the truth, Vanielle was her best friend by now and she would never betray her like that.

“Okay, what is going on, Tissaia? How is Yennefer important? If the brotherhood is endangering her…” she didn’t get to finish that sentence as Stregobor, Artorius and several other chapter members walked past them towards the tower to the meeting. Tissaia didn’t pay her any mind, but when she heard Vanielle whisper to Triss that the rectoress would probably personally incinerate anyone who so much as harmed a hair on Yennefer’s head, she turned around and hissed again, telling her to keep her mouth shut and hurry up to the meeting.

On their way to the meeting room Tissaia didn’t say a word, she rather considered her current situation, especially with Triss new to the equation. The girl had always been quite intelligent, but also able to keep things to herself, and still, the rectoress wasn’t comfortable with her knowing anything about her feelings when she never even admitted anything to Vanielle.

* * *

Once again, she found herself in a meeting of the chapter, once again she felt about as uncomfortable as she could be. Over the years, her clear favouritism towards Yennefer had caused most members to be hesitant when it came to trusting her, and Tissaia understood that. The young sorceress had shown on many occasions that she hated the chapter, and Tissaia too, it was no wonder that her colleagues were wary of favouritism directed at someone who met it with a sense of loathing unmatched only by Stregobor’s hate towards her.

Stregobor’s feelings towards her had intensified to a degree where she thought it entirely possible that he would start sending assassins after her to get rid of the rectoress. She was a constant thorn in his side, whether it was because she demanded more money for her school or because she blocked a certain action that would definitely have repercussions of unforeseeable proportions. As she looked into his eyes, she was once again glad that they were all being searched before the meeting so he couldn’t throw a dagger at her, in her current state she wasn’t sure if she could dodge it.

His eyes were colder than ice, colder than anything known to men. After what had happened in 1213, she would not be surprised if someone told her that the sorcerer had, in fact, no soul. Three years after Yennefer’s departure, he had gone mad about some prophecy regarding Lilith and her girls helping her rise again, all of them allegedly born of noble blood and under the black sun. It was utter nonsense.

Eltibald had been the first to talk about the curse of the black sun, spewing insane nonsense about the demon goddess who was to walk the earth again to exterminate all humans. Vanielle and Tissaia had known it to be utter hogwash, but they weren’t able to stop Stregobor. But he had proposed they lock these girls up, study them, just to be sure.

And just to be sure, all the girls died in mysterious ways. One of them had used her extremely long hair to hang herself, just to put herself out of her own misery, but instead of showing some basic human decency, Stregobor cut every single one of them up. Sure enough, all of them showed signs of mutations, but that didn’t really prove anything, for most of the girls, had never shown any of the rumoured signs of aggression and thirst for blood.

That hadn’t stopped Stregobor from killing all of them, though. Try as they might, Tissaia and Vanielle hadn’t been able to stop him. Artorius, the man who often showed the most sense, had fallen for it too, convincing the Duchess of Toussaint that her firstborn daughter, Sylvia Anna, was a victim of said curse. After a fire, of which Tissaia was sure it wasn’t actually started by Syanna, but by her little sister, Anarietta, the poor girl’s parents send her away, not actually killing her. To the best of her knowledge, the young woman should still be alive.

Syanna was probably the only survivor of Stregobor’s rampage. Stregobor, who was now sitting there with his cold eyes, making Tissaia shiver despite the fire that was burning in the middle of the circle. The meetings had gotten colder and colder with each passing year, and all that because Stregobor could not leave his personal grievances out of their organization.

The relentless stare caused the rectoress to shift in her seat, crossing her legs and softly putting her gloved hands into her lap. She was aware of the fact that she went into the defensive mode completely and irrevocably, but she couldn’t help it, she had to protect herself somehow, and pretending to be that much stronger than she actually was could only work for her disadvantage.

“Dearest colleagues, our first order of business is regarding Nilfgaard, they proceed to take the lands around them and make them their territories with no regard to what the brotherhood says about that, Artorius, have you heard form your errand niece?” Stregobor pointedly looked at her when the sorcerer from Toussaint answered that he hadn’t heard from Fringilla ever since she turned her back on the brotherhood.

Every chance he got, he’d remind her that the loss of control over Nilfgaard was Tissaia’s fault by giving Yennefer what she wanted at the wrong time, enabling her to steal Fringilla’s place in Aedirn’s court and therefore not only destroying the girl’s future, but also any chance they had regarding their strenuous relationship to Cintra. Though the Cintrans never did find out about Yennefer’s blood.

After the initial and by now somewhat traditional jab at Tissaia’s mistake, they proceeded to go over to usual business, trying to figure out which parts of court gossip was true and relevant, determining the current economical state and how they could use it to their advantage. All in all, it was forty minutes of boredom with simultaneous relaxation for Tissaia because while she didn’t care about how the brotherhood got their money, every minute they spend on talking about this was a minute not taking action against Yennefer.

She should’ve known that it was too soon to relax, Stregobor wasn’t one to just stop after one jab, he had to try and take her down or get his will on something. And since Vanielle had shot him down earlier in the meeting as he tried to get an approval for a hunt after Syanna, he had decided to use whatever weapon he had against Yennefer to hurt Tissaia, again.

With a smug look on his face, he drawled, “now to the last but definitely most important point of this meeting: the thorn in all our sides, the enemy of the brotherhood. Yennefer of Vengerberg has been spotted in the Northern Kingdoms again, in Rinde, to be exact. It is unclear what she seeks to accomplish there, but on her way there she seems to have damaged our reputation further by discrediting our methods and spitting on our work. As far as I am informed, she refused to pay the tax due to the kingdom, Redania, and has proceeded to bewitch the mayor and half of the population.” While he talked, Tissaia had perked up and her skin had lost all colour, making her whiter than any papers could ever hope to be.

She felt nauseous and out of her depth. All those years she had spent directing the attention away from the foolish woman, had tried to make other matters seem more important than her hate towards the brotherhood. And now here she was, without a way out, knowing that Stregobor had finally found a way to justify going after her openly. He did not forget or forgive insults easily, and Yennefer had been far too vocal to ever earn him forgetting anything.

Keeping her mask as firmly in place as possible, she glanced around, looking for any possible ally she could find. She only found Vanielle and, possibly, Artorius, which was by far not enough. Tissaia didn’t know how to get Yennefer out of this, not this time, she felt powerless.

“So?” Vanielle had spoken up for the first time this meeting, not having any interest in the economy herself and keeping out of any politics as long as it didn’t directly concern Brugge. Having caught everyone’s attention successfully, she calmly continued, “I do not see your problem, Stregobor. Many run their mouth about our incompetence, our – or should I say your? – cruelty. Yennefer is hardly the first one and by far not the worst. Calling her the enemy of the brotherhood is a rather brutal exaggeration as well, don’t you think, esteemed colleagues? Just because she doesn’t agree with everything we do, and because she hasn’t been working with us for nearly twenty years, does not mean she is our enemy. Especially since I don’t recall any of you making a distinct effort to bring her back as you did with Fringilla who was a lost cause from the very start.”

Everyone stared at her, some even nodded approvingly, and Tissaia was not sure if it was too rash an action to fall to her knees in front of her and kiss her. It probably would be, besides Vanielle would probably not appreciate that. She had just saved the day and the rectoress would surely never forget that.

Looking around with renewed hope, she took in and revelled in Stregobor’s hateful eyes as Artorius suggested, “Vanielle is right, dear colleagues, it is high time we bring her back into the fold. The question is who will try to get her to come back. Only two at Aretuza are close enough to her, the rest of us has never talked to her. So it is either Triss Merigold or Tissaia, and since it is far too important a task I think we all know who should go. Is that alright with you, Tissaia?”

Replying that it was more than alright, she declared that she would give her best to bring her former student back to Aretuza. The meeting came to an end, and as she passed the sorcerer, she hears Stregobor mumble, “good luck on your quest, though I fear even your best will be far from good enough. I remember how much your little piglet hated you.”

* * *

How dare this idiot use Yennefer’s old pet name? The only one who had the right to even think that name was Tissaia, she had given it to her. And how dare the cretin point out she hated her, why would he rub salt deep into an already infected wound? But she knew, of course, that he hated her with all his might and would do everything in his power to demonstrate that as often as possible.

Truth be told he was right and she knew that he was, that’s why she had fled into her cambers as soon as the meeting had ended. Not ready to face her inevitable failure, she paced the room and tried not to hyperventilate.

Her mind was playing a cruel game, replaying all the times Yennefer had looked upon her with so much hate, but simultaneously also showing her the memories of when the girl had admired her, had actually aspired to be anything like her. Of course, Tissaia knew those times were long gone, and that hurt.

She thought that she’d gotten used to the hurt by now, but she wasn’t, in fact she was so far away from being over it that the mere prospect of having to see her the very next day stressed her out so much that she felt like she might actually cry, but she couldn’t. There wasn’t anything more disgusting than a crying sorceress, she knew that, so she kept control.

She kept control by letting some of it go, letting her Chaos escape for but a moment as she cowered down in the middle of her room, trying to catch her bearings. She couldn’t quite manage to, judging by the state of her room when she next looked up. Unwillingly she had conjured up a mini tornado that had thrown over bookcases, her wardrobe and had scattered neat paper stacks all over the floor.

Heaving a sigh, the sorceress looked around the room. Maybe this was exactly what she needed, a night of bringing order to her room. It could have a therapeutic effect, Tissaia thought, and better to get it done now before Vanielle got the idea of visiting her and bearing witness to how the all-powerful Tissaia de Vries, the biggest control freak known to the continent, had actually lost her control for a second.

Vanielle did come by, seeing Tissaia rearrange her books on the shelves, and though she couldn’t quite place the feeling she knew something was out of place. Asking her friend if she was okay, all Tissaia gave her was a shrug of her shoulders, not saying anything.

“Do you have any idea what to say to Yennefer tomorrow, when you see her for the first time after…” Vanielle’s words died on her lips, not quite sure how to say it without hurting the other more than she obviously already was. Tissaia hated seeing the pity in her friend’s eyes, but she couldn’t stop the other from displaying it.

Contemplating her answer, she knew there could only be one that was true. With Yennefer, there had always been too many variables to safely foretell a certain outcome, especially after the forty-six years they hadn’t seen each other. Wanting to be truthful but neutral, she cursed herself when she couldn’t keep the sorrow out of her voice as she answered, “no, but I have a bad feeling about it, Vanielle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, I'd say I'm sorry for the cliffhanger but... I'm not. Face it people, I'm evil.


	6. Fighting the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Ladies meet again, and it does not go well. Yennefer also learns to hate Geralt now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither characters nor story/dialogue belong to me. I make no profit off of this and no copyright infringement was intended.  
> This should be about the last chapter that (strictly) follows the happenings of the show (in case you haven't noticed yet, it won't end with the last episode)

In an effort to avoid Stregobor or being poisoned, Tissaia had decided to eat her breakfast in the kitchen instead of the hall where all meals were held. She didn’t plan on staying much longer, though she doubted Yennefer was up already. That was of little consequence, however, because the time her protégé needed to get out of bed was time she could use to get a better look around Rinde.

Shoving her plate away from her, not really in the mood to eat anything, she got up and was on her way to the door when Triss burst into the room, breathing harshly and looking frazzled. “Tissaia, I was looking for you,” the young woman gasped and the rectoress raised her eyebrows, wondering what could be so important. She did not expect Triss to say, “I think I know what Yennefer wants to achieve.”

Eyes widening, the rectoress strode past her, telling Triss to come with her to her office. It was bad enough that Yennefer’s best friend had been digging for her intentions and now planned on telling the rectoress. The rest of the school’s current occupants should not be made privy to Yennefer’s personal business unless she chose to tell them herself, but somehow, she doubted that Yennefer would ever feel inclined to.

Once they’d reached her office, the rectoress cast a secrecy spell that made it impossible for anyone outside the office to spy on them. Turning to the young woman, she gestured for her to take a seat while leaning against her desk. Crossing her arms, she asked, “now, what could possibly be important enough that it could lead you to believe it is in any way okay to tell me of Yennefer’s personal affairs?” Her voice was calm and friendly, despite the fact that she felt uncomfortable at the thought of Triss basically betraying her best friend for the brotherhood.

“Tissaia, what’s most important is we stop Stregobor from killing her, don’t you agree with that?” Triss sounded incredulous, looking at her as though she’d lost her mind completely. Tissaia had balked at her words, her mind assaulting her with sickening images of Stregobor and Yennefer. The young sorceress mistook her distracted silence for a confession and asked angrily, “why DO you hate her this much? What was so bad that, even after half a century, you can’t find it within yourself to forgive her?”

At that accusation, anger flared up in her and before she could stop herself, she heard herself shouting, “do you honestly believe I’d have fought the brotherhood regarding her placement in Nilfgaard if I did? If I hated her, I wouldn’t have done her enchantment that Giltine foolishly initiated in my absence, and without herbs no less. Till this day I can hear her screams in my head, Triss, if I hated her I would simply have moved on. Do you reckon I would’ve have tried my hardest to keep the brotherhood’s attention anywhere but on her if what you accuse me of was true? I’m running after her today because her life is more important than my pride, so I swallow it after she left without so much as a goodbye. It’s either that or getting rid of the brotherhood for her, so tell me Triss, do I hate your best friend?”

The rectoress had approached her former apprentice and was now towering over Triss, who had sunken deep into the chair since fleeing hadn’t been an option. She looked at the rectoress with a rather confused expression on her face, not able to comprehend the rant she had been subjected to just yet.

Tissaia took a step back, internally horrified at her outburst and aggressive behaviour. Turning around, she stepped around her desk and came to a stop in front of her window, needing a distraction to cool off. Behind her, she could hear Triss’ mind reeling, trying to make sense of what had just aspired, and Tissaia dreaded the conclusion she’d come to.

Triss, who was connecting all the dots given to her by various clues, starting from Tissaia’s aura over to Vanielle’s more than obvious clues and combining it with the sudden outburst of temper. Suddenly the proverbial penny dropped and her eyes went wide with realisation, and Tissaia could hear her gasping when the true nature of their relationship became apparent to her. Not that there was a real relationship to speak of, Yennefer still hated her.

“You loved and protected her all these years, and she doesn’t even know. She tells herself you hate her every day, Tissaia-“ “and it will stay that way! It’s best for everyone involved, she hates me anyway,” the rectoress voiced with conviction. When Triss muttered that she didn’t really believe that to be true, she decided not to have heard her, instead coming back to their actual topic and asking Triss what she wanted to tell her.

Now Triss was the one to look uncomfortable, looking down to her hands and gnawing on her bottom lip. Tissaia sighed and walked back around her desk to take her previous position just to be told that it would be better to sit down properly for this. That made the rectoress feel quite uneasy, though she did as she was told, she didn’t dare think about what might be up with the raven-haired sorceress that would require her to sit.

“I think she searches a way to regain her womb, the Universities of Oxenfurt and Metinna keep meticulous ledgers that they let me take a look into, and all the books Yennefer had checked out had to do with healing, medicine, and fertility. Tissaia… I think Yennefer’s looking for a way to get a baby,” carefully Triss looked at her, trying to interpret her reaction. There was no real reaction, Tissaia’s face was blank, not showing anything, not even her usual sadness.

“That’s impossible,” she breathed and looked over to her bookcases, shortly wondering whether she had anything on the topic that could help before remembering that there was no cure for infertility caused by willingly giving up the womb. Triss pointed out that Yennefer likely knew that but was unwilling to accept it, and all Tissaia could do was hum, knowing it was very like the sorceress to ignore an inconvenient fact in favour of looking for the impossible.

Looking back at Triss, she considered her situation before blowing all caution into the wind, she already knew and Yennefer’s life may be at stake. Hesitantly, she asked, “you’re her best friend, how would you approach her about this?” The woman looked away from her for the first time, taking a long moment to consider her answer carefully. Her answer didn’t sit well with the rectoress, not in the slightest, because she expressed her own hesitation, making it clear that she, too, was at a loss.

They sat for a few minutes in silence, and Tissaia was painfully aware that she should leave soon if she still wanted a chance at snooping around the city herself. Just before she was about to say goodbye, Triss looked at her with doubt in her eyes, suggesting, “maybe you should offer her a position at Aretuza? I know she hates it but… think about it. Why would she want a baby? She has never exactly been the motherly type, but she has always been obsessed with leaving behind a legacy. She doesn’t really want a baby, I think, she just needs a purpose.”

Carefully considering the words, she had trouble believing that would be the best course of action. If Yennefer was anything like when she had left, then she’d likely throw it in her face, with some insults to match, and she didn’t need that at the moment. But she would keep it as a last resort, because if all other measures failed, she needed to know that she had given it her all, at least. Not all, of course, one thing she’d probably keep from Yennefer for all eternity.

* * *

Half an hour later she found herself in the town in Redania, walking towards the mayor’s house and taking in the scenery. There was a conspicuous lack of people, though she suspected most of them in bed, exhausted from whatever Yennefer had them do if they came close to the manor. The children were all wide awake, it seemed, and as soon as they’d seen Tissaia, they’d stopped to stare at her while slowly getting out of her way, apparently scared of being kidnapped if they moved too fast.

Some elderly were up and about, complaining about the sorceress that had made camp in the mayor’s mansion, refused to pay taxes and somehow stopped the working class from working, and though that was a piece of useful information to an extent, Tissaia did not want to find out what Yennefer had them do instead. Because she knew Yennefer was creative in a crude way, or at least she had been forty-six years ago.

Approaching the mansion, she saw a rather fat man walk towards her with a big grin on his face and an even bigger purse hanging from his belt, no doubt filled by the workers who had to pay an entrance fee. When he was close enough to take a closer look at Tissaia’s clothes, he quickly realized that he wouldn’t make any money in this particular situation. He let out a rather loud sigh and motioned for her to simply follow him, guiding Tissaia to where he knew she wanted to go. Or had to, but he didn’t have to know that much.

In front of a big door on the top floor, he came to a halt, knocking intently and announcing to Yennefer that an important guest had arrived. Instead of an answer from the sorceress, the door opened by itself, allowing Tissaia to step inside. Bracing herself, the rectoress stepped through the door with significantly less confidence than she was used to.

The raven-haired woman sat at a dressing table, applying make-up with confidence and a rather cold look on her face. As Tissaia approached her, she studied the image in the mirror attentively. Yennefer’s eyes were void of any emotion, hollow even, and not at all how Tissaia remembered her. Yet something shone through the hollowness, something that Tissaia interpreted as the misery that comes with chasing a ghost and a fairy-tale.

Realizing that she now stood directly behind Yennefer, much closer than she had originally intended to, she suddenly heard herself say, “you like pain, I get it.” Not greeting the woman first after interrupting her day was quite rude, and Tissaia wondered what could’ve possessed her to display such behaviour.

Yennefer did not seem to mind the breach of social protocol, instead she objected to the statement itself, saying she inflicted pain while looking up at Tissaia for the first time, a hint of annoyance apparent in her eyes. The rectoress raised her eyebrows in an expression of amusement, finally seeing a glint of the girl she had brought to Aretuza.

“My dear, you still think there’s a difference,” she noted gently, refraining from adding how adorable she thought that was. Considering that Yennefer had a flawless memory, the word would probably have been as conducive as calling her piglet again.

It was the best decision in this case, for Yennefer’s eyelids dropped a bit, showing how unimpressed she was by the statement. Not receiving an answer from the sorceress, Tissaia continued, “it’s been too long, Yennefer. I haven’t seen you for years.” At that, Yennefer blinked and breathed in forcefully, as though she was preparing for a really unpleasant conversation, and Tissaia wondered if talking to her was really that bad for the younger woman, if her hate towards the rectoress really went that far.

Not minding Yennefer’s facial expression the rectoress gave her a broad smile and added, “not since you manoeuvred your way onto Aedirn’s court, which was a very clever move on your part, by the way. Denying your body the rest it should’ve been granted after the ordeal you put it through, turning up in the most stunning dress in Aretuza just to steal Virfuril’s breath and then leaving everything behind without so much as a goodbye, yes that was quite clever. I heard that went well?” She couldn’t keep an ounce of bitterness out of her voice, though she had tried to, and Yennefer looked down at her hands, releasing a small breath as though she had expected those exact words.

With a sarcastic expression, Yennefer said she was sure the King was doing just fine. At that, Tissaia just made the off-handed commented that Demavend reigned now since Virfuril had died, but she wondered how Yennefer had gotten this much out of the loop of politics to not even know her own King had passed.

The rectoress had not been sad at the least when she had gotten the news about Virfuril’s demise. In fact, a broad grin had formed on her face as soon as the messenger had left again two years back and a small, sadistic laugh had escaped her. The prospect of Virfuril dying of the plague after he had taken Yennefer with him, away from Aretuza, was too good for her not to celebrate it.

The woman’s beautiful lilac eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to find out why Tissaia told her this, and why she would continue by telling her about how Fringilla did very well for herself in Nilfgaard, how she had restored peace. Surely the rectoress wouldn’t be here, telling her all of that if she didn’t have a point and everything was peachy with Fringilla and Nilfgaard. Otherwise, she could’ve done that decades ago, and both of them were aware of that.

When she had finally had enough of the other woman’s seemingly random ramblings, she whipped around, facing her for the face time, making Tissaia’s heart rate speed up as a vague scent of lilac and gooseberries reached her. “Why are you here?” The amount of disinterest in Yennefer’s attitude angered Tissaia, did the sorceress really think she’d be here if nothing was afoot? How she could care so little was beyond her.

Pursing her lips in annoyance, the rectoress turned away from the piercing eyes, stepping away to gain some distance before losing herself. Moving towards the bed she made the decision to keep from getting to the point directly, if only to make Yennefer figure the danger out herself and avoid having to face her failure. “You remained hidden for a while, nobody could find you, not even Triss,” she said calmly while touching the soft fabric of the bed’s canopy with her gloved hands before turning to look at Yennefer again and sitting on the end of the bed while commenting that she had started making noise.

With a slight smile, she softly pointed out that Yennefer was looking for something, bowing her head slightly to seem less authoritative than she usually does. “You’re wasting your time,” she advised and noted how Yennefer was narrowing her eyes again before she asked how she knew what she was searching.

Feeling uncomfortable, Tissaia’s fingers dug into the bedding beneath her, while she forced herself to say the truth, “Triss came to me this morning, telling me she had looked into the books you borrowed from the university libraries in Oxenfurt and Metinna. It doesn’t take much to connect the dots, but before you accuse me of being disloyal again I’d like to point out that I did not inform the brotherhood of your pointless venture. Though you should be careful, because if you’re not then you will become like the mages you enlist to help, irrelevant.” Yennefer had turned her back to her again, feigning boredom and starting to sort out her jewellery. The necklace Tissaia had given to her was still hanging around her neck, and she knew that by now, she could afford ten of that kind herself, so she wondered why the woman had kept it if she hated her so much.

Pleading with her, acknowledging that she wanted a cure but pointing out that she had gotten sloppy and angry, that she had let out her frustration on the brotherhood, Tissaia warned her that they wouldn’t stand for it after having granted her the freedom she wanted after she had left the court in Aedirn. Just in case the woman had still not understood the danger she was in, she added, “if you continue to flaunt this behaviour in their face they will come after you, you know that.”

“That’s why you’re here,” the raven-haired woman deduced, “to warn me, how could I ever repay you for warning me of your enemy coming after me to hurt you?” She wasn’t exactly wrong to say that, Stregobor would be more likely to show mercy if Yennefer hadn’t been connected so closely to Tissaia during her time at Aretuza, but there was no changing that now.

Pushing herself up from the bed, Tissaia told her not to be this petty, that it didn’t suit the girl at all. The sarcastic chuckle she received could’ve been foreseen, yet it caught her off-guard. The rectoress pointed out that Yennefer had known the cost of enchantment when she had talked Giltine into doing it unauthorised. Still having turned her back, the other woman coldly replied, “but I didn’t know what it would mean to me.”

There was no emotion in that voice and very little conviction, and at that moment Tissaia suspected that this really wasn’t about having a baby for Yennefer. Triss had been right, her best friend didn’t want a child, she needed a purpose. Tissaia, of course, couldn’t put it quite this bluntly, it would only cause the woman to throw her out immediately and then it would be over.

Where this incredulous idea had come from in the first place confused Tissaia and she stepped closer to the dressing-table again, asking “what does it mean to you? Why? Why do you want a baby?” The expression appearing in Yennefer’s eyes already foretold of a wall slamming up and the sorceress closing herself off.

Going into the defensive mode, she drawled, “the continent is vast, dear Tissaia, just because you don’t know of a cure, doesn’t mean there isn’t one. It’s simply beyond your scope.” The rectoress wished that she was right, that it was simply a matter of her not knowing. But it wasn’t, there was no cure, and anyone charging her for so-called treatments was a criminal at best.

Even Yennefer seemed to have the feeling that her quest was doomed to fail, or at least Tissaia thought she might, based on her looking down in an effort to shield the sadness in her eyes, but the rectoress had seen it. Suddenly, she felt like protecting the younger sorceress from the pain she would inflict on herself should she not stop her pursuit, and impulsively she stepped closer to Yennefer again, placing her hands on the woman’s shoulders, making her still her movements and forcing Yennefer to look at her.

Tissaia softly appealed to her, “it’s time to move on, Yennefer.” She stressed every word and, with hope shining in her green eyes, she continued, “return to Aretuza with me, before it’s too late.” Yennefer had tensed up at her words, looking somewhat torn, as though that was something she herself had thought about once, but Tissaia didn’t count on it.

As Yennefer moved to get up for the first time since her arrival, the rectoress looked down, already knowing what flippant answer to expect from the woman, yet not expecting her to blatantly state she’d rather forget the school altogether, no matter how much it meant to Tissaia. The jab hurt her, but she would never admit that to Yennefer, not under these circumstances.

She turned around to were Yennefer was standing now, emphasizing that Aretuza was everything to the continent and world order, hoping she didn’t seem too pathetic in defending it because she couldn’t very well tell Yennefer what it actually was that meant everything to her. Who it actually was. Looking at Yennefer, she felt conflicted, as she couldn’t tell her what to do, only try to nudge her along onto the right path. Then again, it was not her place to decide what was right for the stubborn woman.

And still, she spelt it out for the raven-haired beauty, telling her that this was her first and likely final offer at redemption, to have the brotherhood breathing down her neck instead of having them on her heels in pursuit for her life. But the foolish woman just wouldn’t take it, she didn’t care about redemption for her mistakes regarding Aedirn or the forgiveness for tarnishing their reputation.

Yennefer blatantly stated that she was not interested in shaping a new generation alongside her, instead mocking her and jokingly asking whether she had lost her touch. And it stung, but Tissaia tried to stay calm, not to lash out at the younger woman who was just trying to… oh heavens only knew what the woman tried to do.

What stung as well was that she wasn’t even particularly wrong about the bit about her needing Yennefer’s help, seeing as the brotherhood had started refusing her budgetary needs more and more over the past few years, no doubt Stregobor’s doing as well. If nothing changed she’d have to get creative or let some of her staff go, and she wouldn’t have that.

The rectoress was growing desperate, trying to keep up with their verbal combat while also keeping form becoming too harsh in an effort not to scare Yennefer off completely. Yet she would be damned to let the woman see the damage she was doing, though Tissaia didn’t quite understand how a woman who had been a ghost to her for half a century could manage to do cause so much pain.

“Only you could be thrown a lifeline and think that you are saving me, do you know that? Nobody else would ever see weakness when all there is, is concern for a fellow mage who has a talent for getting themselves into dangerous situations!” No other mage Tissaia knew was so openly hateful towards the brotherhood, no other mage had ever painted a target this big on their back. How someone with such a slender figure could paint so big a target was beyond her.

Yennefer brushed it off, instead throwing in her face that she was just a control-freak who needed to be the one guiding someone’s success in order to allow it. Tissaia noted that the woman was getting angrier with every word she spoke, though she couldn’t figure out why that was. They were standing closer together again after Yennefer had taken a few steps towards her.

Realizing that this wasn’t necessarily about her, she came to the conclusion that Yennefer had no trust in her, seeing a conspiracy behind everything and an enemy in everyone, making her fight whoever was even close to standing in her way. Yet she didn’t understand what she had done to warrant this hostility, apart from buying her from her abusive family which, in the end, had turned out to be the woman’s salvation. But maybe she didn’t see it that way.

At wit’s end, she asked, “how did we get this way, Yennefer? I gave you all I could give and even a little bit more than that. What else do you want from me?” Too late she realized that she should’ve swallowed the last two words, that they just gave Yennefer another chance at wounding her.

“From you? You don’t have anything I want, Tissaia. I want everything, and you can’t give me that, can you?” Yennefer’s mocking tone became too much to bear in this moment, and Tissaia couldn’t stop herself from barking impatiently, “well neither can anyone else, but at least I’d try harder than the rest of the losers you go to for help!”

Watching her in stunned silence, Yennefer considered the situation before replying that she didn’t believe her, asking why she would after all those years of indifference, years of silence that spoke of disinterest. Tissaia objected of course, arguing that she had given Yennefer the space she thought the woman needed to come back on her own, and again she was met with disbelief and insults.

Apparently deciding that she’d had enough of this conversation, Yennefer brushed past her, saying, “you may go, rectoress, I have business to attend to, and I doubt you would find time in your busy schedule to sit in on that. Go and run your school. Oh and, careful there, in this world there is nothing more hideous than a crying sorceress.” She was cold, colder than ice, all of her verbal blows hitting the exact spot they were aimed at hitting.

Careful not to let the tears fall that had gathered in her eyes, the rectoress swallowed harshly, facing the truth that she had failed. It was not a big surprise, but a bitter failure, nonetheless, seeing as she now had to keep the woman alive by other means and she had no idea how to pull it off. Trying to gather her bearings as good as possible, she made the split-second decision that she’d actively lie to the brotherhood while she conjured up a portal.

Not turning around, she said in a clear voice, “fine, I’ll do everything in my power to keep Stregobor and the rest off your back, but you should consider going back into hiding because at this point I really can’t do much against them.” Not waiting for an answer, she stepped through the portal into her bed chambers, trying her hardest not to fall apart completely.

* * *

The evening had come rather quickly, and after her visit from the rectoress, Yennefer had been rather irritated for the rest of the day, which had resulted in her placing a spell on anyone who dared enter the mansion – an even stronger one than the days before -with slightly altered effects. The days before, she had let them do tricks to amuse her, or sing whilst dancing in a circle around her, but today she had felt like she needed to blow off steam, so she had the entire room filled with smoke that induced the uncontrollable urge to follow certain needs, allowing her to create a giant orgy.

Watching the peasants do her biding with an absent mind, she replayed the conversation with Tissaia over and over again, not quite able to shake it from her conscience. No matter how often the sorceress told herself that Tissaia had been telling lies, that she needed to push it away and not think about it, there always remained this little voice in her head, telling her that Tissaia’s faults were inconsequential in this particular case, because the one thing the rectoress had never done was lie to Yennefer.

The door opened suddenly, pushed open by force, revealing a white-haired man, dragging with him what looked to be a moronic peasant. To Yennefer’s great surprise, the muscular man didn’t seem to be affected by her spell in the least, just chancing a glance or two while walking towards her, a jug in hand.

“I, uh, brought you apple juice,” the stranger said in a gravelly voice, and Yennefer knew at once that his charm was nothing if not crude. With her enhanced senses she listened for his heartbeat, realizing that it was much slower than a normal man’s.

When she guessed that he was a mutant, he willingly told her that he was a Witcher, going by the name of Geralt of Rivia. Or, as Yennefer had heard of him, the White Wolf. Briefly, she wondered if he had really been knighted at some point, or if he just liked to add Rivia to his name.

Introducing herself, Yennefer noticed his confusion and heard him say something about Chireadan, the elven healer in the next town. The sorceress knew that the elf had misguided feelings for her, but she currently didn’t feel like getting a plaything so she chose not to inquire what the healer could possibly have told Geralt about her.

Explaining that he needed her help with his friend, the moronic peasant whose name was Jaskier, as he had been attacked by a jinn. That gave Yennefer an idea, so she lifted the spell and told Geralt to follow him, saying she’d help his friend. Sadly she had to realize that the man had little humour, or just not her kind, as she mentioned that she’d always pictured witchers with fangs, or horns even. She was fascinated by him, asking him questions out of his limited capability to cast magic before he interrupted her, saying he’d answer all questions if she helped his friend.

Friend. She doubted he was just a friend for him, nobody in their right mind promised a sorceress anything she wanted just to save their friend, no, this man meant more to Geralt. Lifting her spell, she told the man to first carry Jaskier upstairs and then wait for her in the kitchen. She went and found the staff, arranging for them to get a bath ready for the Witcher, whose horse’s age, breed and even colour she was able to tell by the smell.

Finding her newest patient in her bed, the Witcher dutifully watching over him, she began to work on the man’s cure. Looking over to the wolf, she commented, “I don’t have any use for you here, and you reek so please go and take a bath, I’ll find you as soon as that happens.” The Witcher looked at her as though there were a few things he’d love to object to, but he decided against it and left with the servant that had been waiting outside.

Quietly, she worked her magic until the injured man was fast asleep. Chireadan had been right to send the men to her, though she had only acquired her medical knowledge recently. The elf had no way of knowing if Yennefer was actually able to cure such a nasty magical wound, then again the elf himself had probably only been able to tell that it was indeed a magical wound, not which kind.

When she was done administering the cure, she changed from her black dress into a white, lighter and much more translucent dress. Entering the bathroom, she found Geralt leaning back comfortably in the tub, looking up at her with a neutral look on his face, seemingly unbothered by the fact that the water hid little of his body, he even asked her if she planned on joining him.

“No thank you, water has a way of creating an illusion when it comes to body proportions and I am not quite fond of the thought right now,” she breathed softly and sat down on a stool next to the tub instead, listening intently as the Witcher explained how they came across a djinn in the first place, and why.

The man had trouble sleeping, and when the sorceress pointed out that she could help with that, Geralt said, “well, Jaskier’s looming death kind of jumped the queue on that one, and now I’m worried I might have accidentally agreed to become your slave.” Yennefer let out a chuckle at that, what would she possibly do with a Witcher? Even if she got the djinn to give her what she wanted, Witchers were sterile so she definitely couldn’t use him for that.

Not quite sure what she wanted to know next, she leaned against the shelve behind the stool, eyeing the scars that covered Geralt’s white skin. He noticed, of course, and told her to ask about them like everyone else always did. She haughtily replied, “everyone else is boring, you should instead tell me if all Witcher’s are similarly blessed.”

At that, Geralt became sarcastic, saying he hadn’t conducted a survey and yet he wouldn’t call them blessed, thanking Yennefer for the magic she, strictly speaking, hadn’t given to him, reporting that it had made for a magical childhood, bitterness apparent in his voice.

“Happy childhoods make for rather dull company, don’t you think? Those with a happy childhood become bankers, bakers or swineherds, would you want to be any of those?” He didn’t give her a direct answer, instead grunting in an approving tone as far as grunts could be approving.

He commented on her wrists, saying that her childhood must, therefore, have been very happy, asking what her affliction before Aretuza had been, which was a really insensitive thing to ask in Yennefer’s opinion. Avoiding a direct answer, she sarcastically responded, “Tell me, are there women who find this coarseness charming?” Because she certainly didn’t, and she had a feeling that she had enough of this sarcastic conversation. She made the mistake of mentioning coin, leading him to say that she, herself, found coin to be charming indeed.

She defended her actions, saying that she merely served the stifled people of this town, though she knew herself and was aware that she’d never do something out of altruistic reasons. Pointing out that she was filling a need, something he had apparently never heard of, she wanted to hit herself, being quite aware of the fact that they were fuelling the fire of their conversation with equal measure.

“You’re flying in the face of overzealous authority, and that is fine, more than that even, it’s commendable, but you really shouldn’t pretend that you’re doing it for the people,” he said calmly, apparently beginning to be fed up with the discussion himself. Yennefer scoffed at that, teasingly replying, “oh, you mean the way you’re pretending to go after a djinn just to cure insomnia? Come now, spare me your bullshit. You’re quite fortunate, Geralt, I just determined your company and conversation payment enough for the health of your friend.”

Seemingly annoyed and irritated at the idea that this was all she wanted, the Witcher heaved himself out of the tub and went to dry himself off with one of the towels. When he was dressed, he grumbled about how the clothes were a bit too tight, but Yennefer knew she hadn’t made a mistake when it came to his measurements.

When he came to a halt at his friend’s bedside, he looked down at the sleeping man with a contemplative look. Feeling frustration rising within her, she asked, “do you doubt my capabilities, Geralt?” She was quite pleased to hear that it was only her motives that he had his doubts about. Normally she would’ve been insulted by such doubts, but he wasn’t really wrong, so she didn’t particularly care.

“I said something to him… he’s a…” “A friend,” Yennefer volunteered when words seemed to be hard on Geralt. He reacted in the most defensive manner, saying he’d like it not to be the last thing Jaskier remembers. Yennefer refrained from pointing out that there wouldn’t be much he’d remember if he died because even she knew where to draw the line with morbid jokes.

When Geralt’s eyes wandered onto the sigil she had copied earlier, before joining him in the bathroom, Yennefer remembered that she had drawn it without keeping in mind that the Witcher would return to the room and that he was most likely clever enough to figure out what her plan was. And he did come to the right conclusion, not taking it very well either.

Not at all feeling like dealing with his petulant behaviour, she cast a little spell that would work despite his immunity, sending him far away from him with a little feeling of regret. He had not been involved in anything that had gone on in Rinde so far, and here she was dragging him down, making him exact her revenge on her behalf.

* * *

Patiently, Yennefer had waited for the bard to wake up, which he did mid-morning, showing quite a bit of fear of her, stuttering something about having left his cat on the stove. She doubted that he had a house, not to speak of a cat. Jaskier didn’t seem like a cat person either, or a dog person. In fact, Yennefer couldn’t see him owning any sort of animal as she threatened his manhood with a blunt knife. It annoyed her that he stuttered instead of uttering his last wish as she asked him to.

Her first clue should’ve been the fact that the bard didn’t just disappear when he expressed his desire not to be here, but she didn’t mind that after he stormed out. Only when the Witcher turned up a few minutes later while she was struggling for dominance over the djinn did she realise that the bard couldn’t possibly be the one with the wishes, because Geralt was meant to sit in the city‘s dungeons this very moment, yet here he was, in front of her reeking of blood.

“Why did you say your friend was the one with the wishes if they were yours all along,” she panted outraged, still struggling to get the Djinn under control. When he argued that he hadn’t known until the guy in the dungeon burst, she screamed at him, wanting to know how someone can be so stupid as to not notice that a djinn is doing their bidding.

“Stop this insanity, Yennefer, he’ll kill you! I’ll give you my last wish if you just stop,” Geralt shouted over the deafening noise the djinn created. “Oh, the great benefactor, are you? You’d see me happy as long as it is on your conditions? Fuck off, Witcher, I don’t need your help!” A tiny voice of reason piped up in the back of her mind, saying that maybe, this once, she’d taken on too much.

She commanded the Witcher to make his last wish, telling him he could have anything he liked, be it power or riches, immortality or humanity. But the Witcher didn’t want any of it. After staring at her to what felt like an eternity, admiration in his gaze, he uttered his wish, and Yennefer did not quite hear it, but it was something to do with destiny.

As soon as he stopped muttering to himself, everything became quiet, the storm inside the room disappearing immediately as the djinn was now set free and Yennefer had to come to the conclusion that she had not managed to trap it, and so it was not bound anymore. Following Geralt’s gaze, she looked at the ceiling which now had severe cracks in it and would soon fall upon them. Teleporting them away, her last conscious thought was, ‘why did I safe him just now?’

When she came to a few minutes later, Geralt was leaning over her, looking at her with worry in his eyes. Shoving him away from her, she asked about the djinn, knowing fairly well it was gone, accusing the Witcher of setting free a dangerous beast. He calmly responded that he wasn’t dangerous as long as he was free to do as he pleased, asking her when she had last felt happy while also being caged. As loathe as she was to admit it, but he was right on that account.

“I had a plan, why did you have to ruin it,” she groaned in a frustrated manner. When he threw back at her that her plan had gone swimmingly, she hissed, “like a drowning fish you moron!” She glared at him, frustration as high as never before, and she was ready to lose control, let herself become chaos. Yennefer felt like killing him, but something prevented her from that, so she did the next best thing to get rid of her frustration, she slept with him, falling asleep afterwards only to wake up and find him gone, and she did not understand why that stung.

* * *

Six years had gone by, and Yennefer was laying in a bed stood inside a tent on some mountain that she had to climb in order to find and kill a dragon. Next to her, gazing into her eyes? Geralt. She just couldn’t get rid of him for some reason, try as she might, she couldn’t run away. And, much to her dismay, she had some sort of deep feeling for him, and quite frankly that scared her after a life of avoiding attachment at all cost.

And they kept running into each other, as they had at the foot of the mountain when she had started her journey with her escort, Sir Eyck, who had met an untimely demise. Yennefer had known him to be an idiot, but she hadn’t actually suspected him to die before completing the one thing he was good for. But instead of doing that he had gotten his throat cut by Boholt.

That’s why she was stuck with Geralt again, because even though she was a powerful sorceress, travelling alone with cutthroats and bandits as a woman just wouldn’t do. When her former escort had slain the somewhat cute yet ugly creature, the Witcher had shown the disdain she had felt, and she was kind of glad that at least one of them did.

Geralt and her did have things in common, she couldn’t deny that, even though she really wouldn’t cheat destiny to steal someone’s child, she wanted to get hers the traditional way. Yet she couldn’t have that with Geralt, who also thought she’d be a bad mother. She’d show him. All of them, including the blasted brotherhood.

The brotherhood from which she had heard surprisingly little over the last six years, though she had taken Tissaia’s advice and had stopped running her mouth. Thinking about the rectoress, a bit of regret filled her, thinking about how she had treated her the last time. Yes, she hated her, definitely, but had she really needed to be that harsh?

The night before, she had told Geralt that she had always wanted to become important to someone, and in turn, he’d told her that she was important to him. In no way did she understand how she was to deal with that because while she felt the same, she also felt like she shouldn’t feel that way. As though she was being torn apart while simultaneously being caged in.

One part of her loved him and how they got along, how they could just casually have sex and talk about philosophical things afterwards or just sleep. But every time she woke up it felt wrong, even more so now that they had fought about the child issue, and Yennefer couldn’t help but feel disgusted about him abandoning a child that was rightfully his, about him not taking responsibility. He wasn’t a bad guy, she knew that, he was just not ready to face this reality, as though he was running from something.

They got up and dressed, exiting her tent and realising that the dwarves weren’t there. Furious at their advantage, she ran after them, not caring about Geralt and if he was coming or not. She reached them halfway, not too long before they would’ve reached the cave of the dragon and put a freezing spell on them. Not a permanent one, but one that gave her enough time to get the dragon’s heart.

Inside, she came face to face with the impossible: Téa and Vea had survived and were now defending a dead dragon who was curled up around an egg. They explained what had happened as Geralt arrived, and Yennefer felt an immense amount of sadness. When Villentretenmerth appeared, she stared at him in awe, certain that she would never stand a chance if she fought him.

Boholt arrived and Yennefer made the split-second decision to stand with Geralt and protect the egg, taking responsibility for an unborn being though she didn’t have to. Téa and Vea joined into the fight, showing their passion and their fierceness. Combat was messy, but Yennefer kept a cool head, starting to finish her opponents by magic first and, when they got to close for her comfort, using her dagger and a sword to finish the latter ones.

They ended up outside, Yennefer and Geralt both facing one opponent, and when Yennefer was in grave danger, Geralt saved her by throwing his sword as though it was nothing more than a tankard in a bar fight. In turn, the sorceress slit Boholt’s throat just as he was about to end the Witcher. Had she finished him after he had gotten rid of the Witcher, she would have one problem less in this world, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to let that happen, and she just didn’t understand why.

Until Villentretenmerth tattled on Geralt’s wish from six years ago in Rinde, and everything became clear to Yennefer. Thanks to the white wolf’s wish, the djinn had played one last trick. He had bound their destinies together, intertwining them until eternity and not allowing them to part, ever. It was a cruel joke, to be forced into this, nothing about it was real. That’s why she felt torn, because, in reality, she wasn’t meant to be in this situation, but how does one undo the actions of a djinn that was long gone?

Telling Geralt clearly what she thought of him, that she didn’t want to see him ever again and that she was done with him, she brushed past him. Jaskier was sitting on a stone not far, never far from his friend at whom he looked with a gaze not normally shown by mere friends, and he glared at her as though he had something against her cutting all ties with the Witcher.

She was devastated as she realized the whole extent of this wish, and before anyone could see her break down she portalled herself to her house in Vengerberg where she hadn’t been in months. In an attempt to regain control over her situation, she began to clean up the house like a madwoman. When she was done, she stopped to look around, and saw that, in her attempt to distract her from the fact that she may never get the love she had wanted, just like Tissaia had prophesised all those years ago, she had shown a similarity to the woman which she never knew she had: her need for absolute control.

The next months she spent perusing every single book she had that might have the slightest hint at how to get herself out of this mess, but she couldn’t find anything. As desperation set in she made a choice, she would not let this curse bind her to a man she didn’t choose, she’d make her own destiny, again, just like Istredd had proposed all those years ago. Except this time she wouldn’t fail, because she knew exactly where to go to make it all better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment if you did, it always makes an authors day :)


	7. Asking for Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yennefer is in for a very big surprise and Fringilla hijacks the chapter meeting that Yennefer attended for whatever reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither characters nor the world of The Witcher are my property. I make no profit off of this and no copyright infringement was intended  
> Where I live it's quite late soooo.... sorry for the late update? Times haven't been kind lately so I hope you can forgive me for that. Either way, I do hope you'll enjoy the chapter!

It had been a few weeks since Yennefer had come to terms with the measures necessary to rid herself of that pesky binding the djinn had placed on Geralt and her. That period of time had been necessary for her to prepare for seeing the person she hated so much, whom she had mistreated so badly the last time they had seen each other. Though she had a feeling she might never be truly prepared to see Tissaia de Vries again, voluntarily no less.

And now she was actually here, on Thanedd, inside Aretuza, wandering the halls more or less aimlessly. She was currently in the apprentices’ corridor, remembering her own time there while hearing the current girls living in this school giggle merrily in their rooms. After her own experience here, having had the first impression of being locked into her room, she could not understand the happiness those girls had, and she also didn’t feel like investigating.

Her first night had been hell, and she was rather glad that this was the first time in over fifty years for her to think back to it. To the night where she had to come to terms with the fact that she was worthless. Now, of course, she knew better. It had taken years to give her a sense of self-worth, but now she had it, and she had Tissaia to thank for that as well, she thought begrudgingly.

She also ought to thank her for not letting her die when she had foolishly believed taking her own life would give her any sort of control. Softly, she shook her head as she passed the room that had been hers, not quite understanding how she had ever been so dumb. Then again, youth was always said to be naïve, so it wasn’t something Yennefer beat herself up about.

The corridor was shorter than she remembered, and she was not quite at the end of it when the door to her former room opened and three girls stumbled out the door. Their giggling stopped abruptly, and the girls stared at Yennefer, not quite sure what to do.

“What are you looking at?” Yennefer’s voice was cold, making them shiver uncomfortably. The three of them looked at each other and timidly asked who the sorceress was and what she was doing in Aretuza. She snorted and responded with a cool introduction, not wanting to make the wrong impression with the girls.

One of the girls still got confident and asked what she had done after leaving, inquiring about every detail and what led her back here. “You’re quite nosy for an apprentice of Aretuza. Don’t they teach little girls that they shouldn’t stick their noses in other people’s affairs?” At that, one of the other girls sarcastically commented that she was the daughter of some duke and that she basically had never been told off.

Yennefer wondered what might’ve been so bad about her for her father to send her away to a school for witches, just for the sarcastic girl to explain that she hadn’t done anything. Better yet, her father had actually paid for her education at Aretuza. The sorceress was left nearly speechless, inquiring whether that was true only for the girl herself, who actually reminded her a bit of Doralis without the doll, to say that the brotherhood had decided they needed more students from “the best families”, as she put it.

Disgusted, the sorceress turned her back on them, ignoring their pleading for her to tell them her life’s story. They weren’t worth her time, she had decided, so they became as important as used-up air. She kept walking until she was next interrupted at the entrance of the library, by none other than Vanielle of Brugge, herself part of the Chapter and, if the events at her ascension night were anything to go by, a friend of Tissaia.

“Yennefer,” she asked incredulously while gently placing a hand on her elbow, “when did you arrive? What brings you here?” She was awfully curious for someone who wasn’t supposed to be in the building without a reason herself. Then again there might be a reason, Yennefer wouldn’t know, since she had stayed out of politics for way too long. The last update she had gotten had come from Tissaia, and that had been seven years ago already.

“And what would you like it to be, Vanielle,” she responded non-committedly. She wasn’t one to give away her secrets freely, not even to those she could, strictly speaking, consider to be trust-worthy. After a moment of deliberation, Vanielle said she would’ve liked her reason to be of a political nature but taking Yennefer’s reaction into consideration she doubted that to be likely. The sorceress would’ve smiled at that, had Vanielle not added that Tissaia, who was currently in her office, would be happy to see her again.

“And why would she be happy about that, Tissaia hates my guts, she has no reason to wish for my return.” She was confused, not quite understanding the game the older sorceress was trying to play here. The other woman looked at her with disbelief before letting out a small chuckle, commenting, “my dear Yennefer, how wrong you are. She never hated you, did you really believe that? I admit Tissaia isn’t quite forthcoming when dealing with her own feelings towards someone but hate looks different on her… but you really should talk about that with her, not me.”

There was a glint in her dark brown, warm eyes that made Yennefer question her decision to come here in the first place, surely there were other sorcerers who could help her. Not quite sure what to respond, she simply said goodbye after asking if Tissaia was truly in her office.

Wandering up the familiar stairs she pondered the other sorceress’ words, though she couldn’t explain them to herself. Coming to a stop in front of the massive wooden door to the rectoress’ office, she sighed heavily before knocking with more conviction than she actually felt. Some movement could be heard behind the door, along with a string of muttered curses before the door was yanked open and a furious Tissaia growled, “I swear to the gods, Stregobor if you don’t –“

Her eyes, which had been narrowed in her blind rage, blew wide open when she looked into Yennefer’s amused face and actually realized who was standing in front of her. Deciding to be playful with the woman for once, she joked, “I’m not the menace you expected to knock on your door, I take it?”

The woman released a breath and visibly relaxed, her shoulder dropping a few inches, and she mumbled, “you’re never a menace, Yennefer, not to me, no matter what you do. Why don’t you come in, the hallway is no place to discuss what can only be a matter of great import for you to actually show up here.” Turning her back she strode back to her armchair behind the imposing desk, leaving it to Yennefer to close the door behind her.

Lingering at the door for a few seconds, she took in the appearance of the office. There were more books now than there used to be, some not even neatly stacked away but left on one of the benches as though temporarily forgotten, one even lying face down in the floor as though it had been thrown in rage.

Slowly approaching the book on the ground, she waited for Tissaia to object to her touching the rectoress’ belongings. When no complaint came, she moved to pick it up, not looking at Tissaia and therefore not noticing that the woman had grown tense yet again.

Turning as though she had been bitten, she stared at the rectoress with a puzzled look on her face and asked, “what is this, Tissaia?” The other woman looked down onto her desk, shame colouring her face as she bit her lip before recomposing herself, looking back up.

“That was the last lead I had for your wish, Yennefer. And to my dismay as much as yours, it led nowhere, it also was the very last idea I had, there’s nothing left. I’m truly sorry Yennefer, I wished I could help,” she had stepped around her desk, hesitatingly coming to a stop in front of the raven-haired woman.

She’d be damned, Vanielle had actually spoken the truth about her not hating the sorceress. It must have been the truth, considering that the woman who had stated her opinion on sorceresses having children in “The Poisoned Source” had been willing to help her achieve exactly that. Before Yennefer could start overthinking things and make them more complicated than currently needed, she gently put down the book and gazed deep into Tissaia’s eyes, even going so far as to softly putting her hand on the woman’s shoulder.

Calmingly she whispered, “I’m grateful that you tried, Tissaia, if I’m being honest then you did more for me than anyone else ever attempted, but you need to stop.” At that, the rectoress was positively dumbfounded, but just as she opened her mouth to object Yennefer continued, “no you do. It’s of no use. I met a golden dragon, you see, his name is Villentretenmerth and he foretold that I will… that I’ll never regain my womb.”

Tears had started pooling in her eyes, her own words truly registering in her mind for the first time since she’s gotten the news. So many years she had spent on a pointless venture, had even gotten so far as to unknowingly enlisting the rectoress to help her. But she couldn’t dwell on it, not now and certainly not here.

Tissaia nodded understandingly and stepped away from her, giving her space she desperately needed and said, “if a golden one said that, then I fear he is right, though I am surprised you’d give up so quickly. If you’re not here because of that, then what could possibly be important enough to send you running to the person you hate most?” Eyes widening slightly, the sorceress shivered at the impact of the rectoress’ words, realizing something she hadn’t thought about, something she’d have denied had it been on the forefront of her mind.

Trying to play it off she sarcastically said, “don’t flatter yourself, the person I hate most in this world is certainly not you, nor will it ever be you. That doesn’t mean that I like you, though, and still, I’m quite capable of admitting when someone might be able to help me.” No matter how hard she tried to, she couldn’t continue telling herself that she hated Tissaia with the ferocity she had up until now, not while looking at the sharp facial features that stood in stark contrast with the softness displayed in the rectoress’ eyes.

She was growing soft. Not Tissaia, but Yennefer, and she knew it would be her downfall into everything she didn’t want, even if she didn’t know what that was, exactly. Her instincts were telling her to flee, to just turn around and leave the woman standing there, doomed to never gain knowledge of what had brought her here. Yet she knew that losing the binding towards Geralt was more important to her right now than anything else.

Sitting down in her armchair, Tissaia patiently waited for Yennefer to continue on her own pace, knowing that anything else would lead to her bolting from the office, though she could do that already if she felt like it. The sorceress was grateful for the time to mull things over in her head, knowing that Tissaia was her only chance at getting what she wanted but also being aware of her pride.

Taking a deep breath, she too sat down and started explaining, “you surely remember your visit in Rinde-“ she noted the other flinch slightly at that and look away but did not comment on it- “and after you left a Witcher came, seeking my help to save his friend who had been wounded by a djinn. Now, you know me, when I heard djinn I saw an opportunity and I wanted to take it.”

When she saw a smile form on Tissaia’s face she stopped her story, narrowed her eyes ever so slightly and waited for the woman to say something. She did not expect her to say that the djinn-incident had actually helped the rectoress in convincing the brotherhood to leave her alone, telling them she might’ve died as a result of recklessly battling the creature. So they had waited, and since Yennefer had refrained from making noise since then, they had all but forgotten about her.

Again being at a loss as to how to properly react, Yennefer simply continued, “well, before the djinn could disappear, the Witcher, Geralt, had to make his last wish, as he did, which is exactly what created our… my problem. He doesn’t see a problem with the fact that the djinn was an ass for one last time and bound our fates to each other but I do!” Anger had risen up inside her again as she remembered his uncaring behaviour, and her voice had gotten louder with each word she spoke.

Tissaia only sat there, eyebrows raised, waiting for her to calm down. When she had, the rectoress inquired why that was something she had such trouble with, to which Yennefer responded, “we’re constantly fighting. It’s almost like we’re meant to fall in love or something, but all this whole situation and my feelings for him make me feel like is a caged animal. I never felt a deeper connection to anyone and it should fell right but all it is, is wrong.” Not understanding she looked at her old mentor for an explanation.

The rectoress had put on a neutral mask and carefully considered the words she had just heard. There really was only one thing that could prevent a djinn’s doings from taking hold effectively, and that was fate itself having other plans already. Calmly she argued, “it would seem to me as though something prevents you from falling under the djinn’s spell completely. My best guess here would be that you are already emotionally bound to someone else in this world, even if you don’t know it yet.”

Yennefer stilled at that, pondering the other woman’s words. If what she said was true, then there was someone out there who would, at some point in the future, need and love her the way she always wanted to, or at least that’s what she hoped. Because the thing that was going on between her and Geralt was not good, no matter how one looked at it, it was always bad.

“So you’re saying the djinn shouldn’t have been able to bind us in the first place?” Upon her question, Tissaia said that this was only partly correct, explaining that he had only been able to because Yennefer had denied the very possibility of her original bond, even if her current bond was only partly effective.

When Yennefer asked if it was possible to lift the bond, if she was willing to help her rid herself of the Witcher without having to kill him as she was quite fond of him and had a feeling he might be important in the future, if not to her than to others, the rectoress paused. The woman folded her hands on top of her desk, green eyes looking deeply into hers.

After what seemed like an eternity the rectoress finally yet hesitantly answered, “there might be a way, though it will not be easy, I assure you. Also… there’s a war brewing, Yennefer, Nilfgaard is approaching and I doubt they come in peace. If you help us in the battle that is sure to ensue, then I could help you find what you need afterwards. And you will need help, for finding an elven sage is not an easy task, and I happen to know one that might be inclined to help. Come to the meeting with me, that’ll get you up to speed.” Tissaia had already gotten up and waited hopefully just a few steps away from Yennefer.

Sighing, she conceded and got to her feet again and followed closely behind her, not noticing the slight smile that had formed on the rectoress’ face. If a meeting was what she had to endure to get her way, then so be it. Though she’d have a word with Tissaia afterwards, for she did not feel particularly inclined to fight for a cause she didn’t believe in, much less at Stregobor’s side.

* * *

As this was a matter of war, the brotherhood convened in the large ballroom this time, gathered around a long, round table. News of Nilfgaard having reached and taken Marnadal and was now riding for Cintra had reached them shortly before the meeting had started. The fronts were clearly divided into two halves, Stregobor, Artorius and their followers were opposite of Tissaia’s fraction.

Vilgefortz, a young and quite handsome sorcerer, was standing next to her, telling Artorius off for even considering to leave Cintra at Nilfgaard’s mercy, saying his military experience gave him the feeling Nilfgaard surely wouldn’t stop until they had the whole continent under control. Tissaia was somewhat glad to have him on her side, even if he was rather forward with his advances towards her.

She kept her mask of severity on, spine straight and her hands resting on the table next to the giant map that had been lain out on top of it. Sabrina’s presence next to her grounded her, along with Triss who stood right next to her. Her attention was a bit thrown off by Yennefer who stood to the side though, as she had been expecting a bit more reaction from Stregobor than he had shown until now and she was worried for her safety.

“All the years he spent swinging his silly sword around were years he wasn’t serving as a mage,” Stregobor bellowed, looking around the room for support. In an effort to reflect his jab right back at him, Tissaia coldly said, “or killing babies born at an eclipse.” She dipped her head in his direction with a suggestive look on her face, bringing to mind his atrocities that had taken place not too long ago.

That had the attention of the room on her, the mood tipping ever so slightly in her favour. Thinking it better to act now before she lost her chance, she implored, “we can still stop Nilfgaard, provided we act now! The south is the south and will remain under Nilfgaard’s control for the time being, so it is up to the North to unite and fight back.”

Instead of venturing into an issue she did not fully understand, she let Vilgefortz take over and he propositioned, “We need to convince our kings of sending their armies to keep their kingdoms and crowns if we time it right we can make it to Sodden by week’s end, prevent them from crossing the Yaruga, push them back. We could save Cintra.”

When Stregobor feigned disinterest, asking who cared about Cintra when all they did was refuse their help for years, Sabrina answered with an uproar, saying that she cared because their kingdoms would be next. But before she could protest more, the door suddenly opened and Fringilla strode in, effectively capturing the attention of every occupant in the room.

She declared that their fight was only with Cintra, that they came from the same place but had chosen different paths for their lives and how that made them cousins instead of enemies. Tissaia didn’t believe it one second, and after a short look around, she noticed that most others didn’t either. Well, most of those who had a brain, anyway.

Artorius had a peculiar reaction to the sudden appearance of his long lost niece, meaning he showed none. He may have lacked spine just as his niece had, but Tissaia had long since stopped trusting the idiot after it had become apparent that his family was indeed capable of growing one.

Stregobor, to his credit, looked genuinely shocked to see the head mage of the opposing Kingdom in the heart of Thanedd, having thought the fortress secure. Maybe he’d do her the favour and run away to hide in some tower again, not that she couldn’t locate her if she tried to, because she could. She wasn’t arch-mistress for nothing.

Fringilla launched into a well-rehearsed speech, preaching how they knew about corrupt leaders and how great Emperor Emhyr was, the way they strengthened trade under him and had torn down walls. She jabbed at Queen Calanthe for building walls, which was true, yet no reason to attack her and swallow her country whole.

Not daring to chose a side, Tissaia pointed out that she wasn’t defending Cintra but their way of life. All she wanted was to protect the brotherhood and its Academies, as well as the order that had taken centuries to build. Fringilla’s only response was reiterating that they were cousins and could co-exist, though nobody in this room really believed that to be true.

Triss interjected this time, showing her disbelief openly as she called the Nilfgaardian mage out on forcing fellow mages into servitudes. The woman considered Triss for a second before she said, “When in training, Triss, just like soldiers. It’s shared sacrifice, something you all should consider yourselves.” Tissaia didn’t object to that directly, it would’ve been hypocritical to do so, seeing as they transformed their less talented into eels to draw power from them. Of course Fringilla wasn’t privy to that information.

“You teach forbidden magics, Fringilla! Demonology, necromancy, fire magic! How can you justify such vile practices?” Tissaia had to grant Fringilla some respect for keeping her cool the way she did. Instead of answering with the temper she no doubts possessed, she just rebutted the point by saying those were ghost stories told to them at Aretuza to keep them in their places, that there was no light or dark magic, but it wasn’t true.

Tissaia had seen first hand what it looked like when someone called upon Chaos preserved in fire, how it had consumed the person. Making them power-hungry, they would always forget their original ideals and instead did everything to further their power over others and chaos. It never ended well.

The woman paused for a moment before ending her propaganda speech by saying that they should at least stay out of their way if they hadn’t got the senses to become their allies. At that, Tissaia chanced a glance at Stregobor, pleased to see that he apparently was scared enough to almost piss himself, so he wouldn’t do anything but run away in fear. And if he came back, nobody would take him seriously anymore.

The Nilfgaardian sorceress turned on her heels and left them without waiting for a response. She left them to discuss it amongst themselves, knowing fully well that she had driven a wedge between them, she just didn’t know how deep that wedge was. Too many people still followed Stregobor and Tissaia saw no way to change that, especially with the way he now peered at Yennefer.

“Cintra’s a lost cause, let them reap what they sow, they have only themselves to blame,” Stregobor proposed, and she breathed a small sigh of relief, genuinely glad he had stepped down from that topic for now, before Artorius had the audacity to ask for a vote. She pursed her lips in frustration as Sabrina lost her composure for a second and leaned heavily on the table.

“A vote? First you install your niece at Nilfgaard and now you want a vote? You cannot be serious,” he sounded about as incredulous as the rest of them were bound to feel about Artorius’ words. She wished he hadn’t done that, though, because as right as he might feel he was, he wasn’t, except he couldn’t know because he wasn’t part of the Chapter.

“Well now, be fair, Fringilla was supposed to be in Aedirn until Yennefer of Vengerberg came barrelling into this very room, taking her positioning. With Yennefer in Nilfgaard it would still be a shitty backwater and we wouldn’t have this problem,” Artorius sounded sarcastic enough to get a few laughs from people who hadn’t been there, even Stregobor chuckled.

The rest of them remained silent, knowing he was right. Triss looked at her friend nervously, willing her not to cause any more trouble than she had to. Tissaia didn’t dare look at her directly, for she feared it would set Stregobor off. Unfortunately, Yennefer had different ideas about how this was going to go as she stepped forward and agreed.

Tissaia’s head snapped towards her, giving her a look composed of shock, disbelief and the pleading for her to shut up. But she didn't, no, she continued, “instead I went to a golden, prized kingdom and did fuck all for decades until Virfuril sent an assassin after me and his wife. Just like you had Tissaia teach us.”

Stregobor looked as though his eyes were about to pop out of his head, disbelieving in the face of Yennefer’s nerve. It was a direct attack on his policies, they were his, because while Tissaia believed in order, she in no way believed in Yennefer’s next point, and she felt a certain amount of shame when the sorceress said, “I helped murderers and rapists keep their crowns, keep their seats on their comfortable throne.”

Guilt overcame her and she averted her eyes, keeping her gaze away from the girls she had wronged over the years. She would never disagree with Yennefer when she made the point that something different wouldn’t be so bad. Tissaia had really hoped, though, that she’d refrain from making any rash statements like voting to burn it all down when Stregobor told her she had no say either way.

“There... there you have... there you have it! I’ve been right all along...” Stregobor clamoured before Tissaia interrupted him in an effort to silence him, shouting, “it’s true that Cintra has chosen its path. Yes they are as proud and smart as they are difficult. That, however, does not mean that they are beyond hope. It's our duty to swallow our pride and offer our help again in their time of need. I'd wager above all else that they are scared and do not dare look to us for help after we called them a lost cause for years, yet we must provide it, because we stopped trying too.”

Carefully, she glanced around, taking in the murmur going around the room. Sabrina looked as smug as she was done with this pointless discussion. Leaning back slightly, she redirected her look aft Stregobor, who actually looked nervous that she may have swayed the room's mood.

He opted out of responding to that, knowing his debating skills weren't up to par with Tissaia's. Instead, he called the vote, looking around the room with a dark expression colouring his face. To Tissaia’s great disappointment, they voted to leave Cintra to fend for themselves. She received dismayed looks from Sabrina and Vanielle and felt Yennefer briskly walk past her.

Stepping up to her quickly, Triss hotly whispered, “you don’t plan to let her leave you behind like that again, do you? Don't be a fucking fool, Tissaia!”

Prompted by Triss’ rather uncharacteristic use of foul language, she bolted after Yennefer in an instant, not caring who saw it. The only thing they’d think of it was Yennefer being her favourite, which was true, they just didn’t know to what extent.

When she had caught up to Yennefer, she firmly gripped her elbow and whirled her around, hissing, “I know you hate this place but there are girls who need it, desperately!” At that, Yennefer snorted and asked if she meant the girls whose parents had bought their way into Aretuza instead if her going out and acquiring them the old-fashioned way. Tissaia swallowed at that, knowing that she had deserved that blow.

“Desperate times call for desperate actions, seeing as the Chapter is less and less willing to spend money on my education. And I was talking about the girls who have only ever known Chaos until we taught them control. Aretuza is all I have, but you already pointed that out, just with different words. But if Nilfgaard wins…” Looking around carefully to make sure there was nobody there to overhear their conversation, she noticed that more people were leaving the hall, though they weren’t particularly interested in the two women standing there. Putting a wavering smile on her face to make the impression that they were having a pleasant conversation, she stepped closer to Yennefer, looking up pleadingly.

She explained that Vilgefortz had approached her about a plan he had, which she had agreed to. And now she asked Yennefer to join them on their journey to Sodden, where they’d fight Nilfgaard and defend their way of life. Yennefer looked at her with a look Tissaia couldn’t quite place, though it was clear she hadn’t decided yet. She asked, “haven’t you heard me in there? Why would I protect this?”

She was close to desperation, running out of ways to persuade the young woman to join her. Tissaia would not pressure her with the Information she needed to resolve the bond, that would be below her. Grasping at straws, she murmured, “if you won’t do it for the brotherhood, I understand, they haven’t been very good to you I admit that, and I won’t ask you to do it for them, but I will ask you to do it for me.”

She knew that Yennefer was inclined to help her after she had shown her willingness to help her with her problems, but she needed a little bit more than that, something special. And Tissaia knew exactly what would do, but it was something she was deeply uncomfortably with. Swallowing harshly, Tissaia fought with her pride, saying softly, “please.”

Yennefer gazed at her, a smug look colouring her face as she held back a smile and her eyes dropped to Tissaia’s lips as she asked, “have you ever used that word before?” And upon further reflection, Tissaia could actually say that she hadn’t said it in a very long time, possibly not since her own ascension.

The rectoress hung her head in defeat, preparing herself for Yennefer’s final blow. She had always expected Yennefer to be her ultimate humiliation. What she had not expected, however, was for her former apprentice to say, “very well, Tissaia, I’ll follow you anywhere you lead me to, just this once. Will you go to the sage with me after that, provided we’re still alive? Would be easier for you if I died, I suppose.”

At the thought of that, the rectoress paled considerably. She hadn’t considered that Yennefer might die. The woman had lived through so much, she had just assumed that she’d live through the battle with Nilfgaard too, if there was one. Yennefer was skilled and clever enough, sure, but with her being there, Tissaia had even more to lose and she couldn’t understand how she had failed to consider that.

Recomposing herself, not letting any of her doubts and fears shine through, she answered, “naturally, I promised you so earlier. I’d rather not have you die on me, though, so please don’t.” Before the other could recover from her shock at the candid words, Tissaia turned and left for her office, not sparing Sabrina and Vanielle the slightest of glances, even though it was clear they’d been waiting for them.

In just a few hours they’d be off to Sodden, in their desperate attempt to safe their way of life, an attempt many would not walk away from unscathed. For the first time in over a century, Tissaia prayed. She prayed for Yennefer to be alright, for her girls to survive and for Nilfgaard to lose. But until then, all she could do was her best to fight for them, and Tissaia would be damned if she wouldn’t succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just leave out Yennefer going to Istredd because it would have no place in my story and would be totally illogical? Why yes, I suppose I did. Will anyone blame me for that? I suppose you could but... you're reading a Yennaia fic, why would you fault me for that? Leave a comment if you enjoyed this (normal length) chapter if you please! And stay healthy, you precious people.


	8. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they prepare for battle and fight some of it, too. Yennefer thinks that something is up and Triss knows more than she admits, whereas Tissaia just needs a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither characters nor the world of The Witcher belong to me. I make no profit off of this and no copyright infringement was intended  
> I threw in a little bit of softness before it all goes downhill - again.  
> Italics symbolise mental communication as was seen in the show.

Yennefer overlooked the camp they had made with watchful eyes, taking in the cheerful banter going on around the fires. The whole day had been rather stressful on everyone, the sorcerers because they had spent a considerable amount of time in boats getting to Sodden and helping with preparations afterwards, the peasants because they had prepared all day and had then shown the sorcerers the ins and outs of their camp at what used to be a castle. Now that castle was mostly in ruins, denying them proper shelter and making them sleep under the stars for the foreseeable future.

Triss had used the time in the boat to catch up with her, and Yennefer had gladly spent time with her best friend, even though Sabrina interrupted at some points to inquire about some more political points which Yennefer, quite frankly, didn’t care about. She was wondering, though, why Tissaia, who had sat in front of her, had not spared her more than a handful of glances and even fewer words.

Vilgefortz, who had introduced himself the evening before after Tissaia had basically run away from her, had taken her aside, giving the rectoress the chance to go ahead and out of their way. They made idle conversation, with him talking down on her basic sense of logic and her threatening his limbs as a result. It was clear to her that she wouldn’t get along with him all that well, but at least he was better than Stregobor. He had both brain and spine, so he wasn’t annoying, though that could be dangerous should she ever find herself with him as her enemy.

To her surprise she was completely left alone once they had reached the camp, even Triss left her side for once, giving her the freedom of wandering about and watching the others. Tissaia, Sabrina and Triss carefully put little pieces of Dimeritium into small bottles, leaving them for Vilgefortz, who apparently had a gift for multiplication. Yennefer questioned the decision to have their military expert spend all the Chaos he had before the battle had even begun, because she sure didn’t believe that the northern armies would reach them before Nilfgaard did.

Magic of replenishment was difficult because it meant drawing Chaos from the elements around while also using it, but at least four sorcerers were capable of doing so, herself included. Though she didn’t rightly know whether the others knew about that or not, seeing as she had, strictly speaking, never told anyone. But she also wasn’t going to offer her Chaos if it wasn’t needed, instead, she joined the peasants and made fletching for their archers, or rather their band of women and teens. While sitting there, she had listened to the others gossip about current affairs in the world and tuned out the information that was personal. Their lives were none of her business, and she respected boundaries. Also, she wasn’t very interested in the lives of peasants, having come from that life she knew it held nothing for her.

Shaking herself from her musings, she turned and asked one of the peasant women, who currently held a bow for inspection, if this was all they had. Regretfully the woman gave her affirmation, explaining that they hadn’t been able to get their hands on more feathers since Nilfgaard blocked their ways of transportation and trade. Yennefer noticed her sadness when she said that all they had left was waiting for Nilfgaard to attack now.

“You could be down there, with the others,” the sorceress suggested, gently motioning towards the fires below, seeing how Tissaia laughed at something Vilgefortz had said and wondered what had the stoic woman laughing. When the woman said she couldn’t, Yennefer looked back at her, waiting for an explanation.

Nilfgaardian soldiers had taken her farm and her children from her, Yennefer learned, now coming to the understanding that the woman indeed had no other option than to fight back. She wondered what it was like, fighting back because something was lost, something that had meant the world. She fought because there's nothing else to do for her, and if she wanted to get to the sage Tissaia had mentioned, she'd have to wait for the woman, because she preferred not going to someone as entitled as an elven sage on her own. Yennefer's self-awareness caused her to believe that it would only end badly if she tried it on her own.

Picking up the last feather lying on the table, she made the decision to offer something that wasn’t asked of her, only this once. Concentrating for but a moment, she turned to the woman, whose name she would probably never know, and handed her six feathers. The original one along with the ones she had just conjured up. Feeling Sabrina's stare behind her back she smiled at the woman and said that it was only magic, that it wasn’t anything real, when she was met with gratitude and a slight of envy. Before Sabrina could confront her about it, she passed the woman and rushed down the stairs, only slowing once she could be sure the other sorceress hadn't followed her.

Pressing against a wall, hidden in the shadows, she breathed a sigh of relief. Normally she felt rather unaffected by other people’s misfortunes, had the capability of filtering it out and ignoring it, but just this once it had gotten to her. She felt no regret about giving the woman more feathers than should’ve been there, no matter what others thought, she liked helping people now and again, if only to get a little positive attention in return. She was only human, after all.

Yennefer concentrated on her breathing, blocking out the entire situation she found herself in just to regain her bearings. She forgot all about the woman’s problems, blocked out the anxiety gnawing at her due to Nilfgaard’s imminent attack. The sorceress blocked out Tissaia… Tissaia? Who was she trying to fool, she couldn’t remember a single day where that had been possible for her, not even remotely.

Shaking her head, she wished for herself to be able to forget about the woman altogether after this was over. By now she felt her resolve about hating the woman waver, and it was unnerving not to know where she stood. Covering her face with her hands, she tried to call up the memories that had always helped her reinforce her negative feelings towards the rectoress, but it didn’t work quite the way it used to. Now, every time she conjured up a reason for her hate, a clear voice in her mind rebutted the point thoroughly.

Not giving into an identity crisis – because what did she really have if not her hate for Tissaia – she just contented herself with the fact that, apparently, her stance regarding the rectoress had turned neutral, at least. Yennefer needed a drink, though she also felt like isolating herself. Facing the bitter reality of not being able to have both, she moved out of the shadows and approached the fire.

From somewhere behind her, Triss appeared with her usual spring in her step, biting into an apple. Her friend noticed her staring at Tissaia and Vilgefortz, who were still in a seemingly really pleasant conversation, and jokingly asked, “is Vilgefortz to be our new daddy?”

Gazing at them again, she felt a rather odd sensation burning inside her. Yennefer couldn’t tell what it was, but something about Tissaia laughing so openly with the slimy git was severely wrong, especially after never having laughed so openly in her presence. What were they talking about that could be this amusing to the woman? It just felt wrong, so very wrong, and it made her mood sour considerably as she was unable to identify the feeling.

Yennefer thought that, for that to even be remotely possible, Tissaia would have to be her mommy. And since she didn’t see that happening anytime soon she was inclined to tell Triss so, but when she looked at the woman she saw a mischievous glint in her eyes, almost as though she knew something Yennefer didn’t, so she just scoffed.

Not wanting to play with fire, she instead changed the subject to something that wouldn’t come back biting her in the ass and asked, “you did time in Temeria –“ noticing Triss´ eye-roll, her suspicion of the woman knowing something only increased – “so tell me, do you believe that King Foltest will actually bring the Northern armies?”

Triss turned to her with a self-assured look on her face, stating, “oh I know he will. He doesn’t forget easily, you know? His daughter was cursed, a striga. I guess I was the only one not to see her as a lost cause.” Surprised, Yennefer glanced at her and inquired if she had really saved her, which is exactly how this conversation came back to bite her in the ass, because Triss said, “well we did. I enlisted a Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, I often wonder where fate took him. Do you know him?”

Humming sombrely, she didn’t get further into the topic, only dismissively warning Triss to be wary of Witchers, as they were oftentimes disappointing. At that, she took a hint and left Yennefer alone with her foul mood. Rolling her eyes, she thought about where she could get herself something to drink without having to listen to or even see the turtle doves with their laughter.

“The ale won’t disappoint,” she heard Tissaia shout all of a sudden. Surprised at the sudden attention from the rectoress, Yennefer turned towards her to find that Vilgefortz had left for good. If she was lucky, he wouldn’t be back. The woman was holding up a metal tankard in her outstretched hand, clearly offering it to Yennefer who was a good ten paces away from her.

The sorceress really wanted to refuse and instead get some distance from her, not sure if she wanted to face the woman after all the overthinking she had done. But she couldn’t refuse her when she was showing her the slightest smile while raising her eyebrows invitingly, her eyes shining with hope.

“We should enjoy it while we still can. It’s probably the first thing Nilfgaard will destroy.” Sitting on the rocks next to Tissaia, she took the tankard from her, when their fingers brushed she felt a surge of energy charging through her. The woman’s smile widened ever so slightly and she asked if Yennefer absolutely had to be so fatalistic all the time.

The sorceress argued that, in the face of imminent death the next morning, the response was only appropriate. Humming approvingly, Tissaia argued, “all the more reason to live tonight, don’t you think?” At that, Yennefer snorted and bit out, “oh? Like you and Vilgefortz just now?” The smile quickly dropped from Tissaia’s face and she turned her whole body towards the younger woman, looking at her with a shocked expression.

After opening and closing her mouth a few times, she said in an incredulous voice, “Vilgefortz? Really? You are so far off Yennefer. Not that it's any of your business, but to me, he has as much appeal as a sea urchin. I have no idea what you think when you see us together, but it should stop.” When she turned away from Yennefer again, but the sorceress saw a hint of red colouring Tissaia’s skin, so she didn’t believe her in the slightest. If it was the truth, then why would she get this flustered?

They sat in awkward silence for a while before Yennefer sighed and decided this wasn't worth a fight. She knew that saying please had probably taken Tissaia quite a bit of effort, so now was her turn to swallow her pride. Turning to the woman who still refused to look her, she murmured, “Tissaia, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to overstep.”

When the other sorceress didn't react, she stepped closer and gently put her hand on Tissaia’s upper arm. Yennefer felt her tense beneath her fingers, and she hesitated for a moment before she whispered, “can you forgive me, Tissaia?”

Momentarily the rectoress relaxed again, her shoulders sagging a bit before she turned to Yennefer. Tissaia's gaze dropped to her lips and she felt the rectoress slightly lean against her hand. Green eyes snapping back up to violet ones she quietly responded, “I’d probably forgive you more than you ever deserve with all the messes you made.”

Yennefer raised her eyebrows in amusement, she wasn't used to Tissaia being quite as direct with her. In a rather unexpected way, she quite liked it. If they survived this ordeal she wanted to see more of this side. Provided they ever saw each other after the sage, of course.

The sorceress leant back against the ridge, their shoulders pressing together comfortably as Yennefer had subconsciously gotten used to the contact. The smile on Tissaia’s face escaped her as the woman looked over to the fire were some sorcerers were having an avid conversation.

A moment later, Tissaia gazed at her and asked, “so are you ready? To die?” There was a sadness in her voice that left Yennefer wondering what was going on with the woman. But she just contemplated her answer before carefully saying, “yes I suppose so. Look at me, I’ve lived two or three lifetimes already.”

Tissaia looked down at her cup, her fingers fiddling with it as she mulled Yennefer's words over. Gazing up at her from underneath her lashes she dejectedly pointed out that she hadn’t been satisfied in any of them, making Yennefer smile.

“I’ve tried, you know? But I have no legacy to leave behind, not like I wanted to. I don't have a family, not even a significant other. You were right, all this time ago when you said nobody would love me,” her voice turned sad, she tilted her head, looking down to her tankard and confessed, “it's time to accept that there's no way I'll get what I want, so it's time to accept that life has no more left to give.”

Tissaia regarded her with a thoughtful look before putting a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at the rectoress and saying in an ominous yet gentle tone, “you still have so much left to give.” At that, the woman had to smile and she felt herself lean into Tissaia a bit more before remembering her place.

Shaking her head, making Tissaia’s hand fall onto her thigh, she brought some distance between them, though she reluctantly decided not to break their touching shoulders apart. All of this felt a bit too familiar, a bit too intimate. Yet, instead of resorting back to fleeing, she found herself too wrapped up in all the attention she got from Tissaia to get up and walk away.

The way she had said it actually reminded her of the lesson she had mentioned earlier, where she had told Yennefer that nobody would love her. Back then, she had had the same feeling of Tissaia not saying everything there was to say. Before she could ask about it, however, the woman got up and said, “come on, let’s go to the sleeping quarters, we can continue talking there.”

Yennefer refrained from making a snarky comment about how she should rather take Vilgefortz. Instead, she followed the rectoress willingly, realizing how tired she was growing. Earlier, she had helped set up the so-called quarters, though they were little more than sleeping mattresses on the ground. Considering the situation they found themselves in, this was pure luxury. Since they hadn’t taken anything of value with them, seeing as they would’ve been of little use, they were free to choose where they wanted to sleep, and Tissaia led Yennefer to two of the mattresses that were about two metres away from the others.

Without waiting for any kind of indication that Tissaia wanted her to stay, she plopped down unceremoniously, laying on her back and staring up at the stars twinkling above them, unbothered by the happenings of the Continent. Tissaia lay down on her side, facing Yennefer and propped up on her elbow. If there was anything unusual about the space – or the lack thereof – between them, she didn’t show it. In fact, she seemed rather comfortable with her legs leaning against Yennefer’s and her right arm nestled in between the two inches that were between them.

Not minding the closeness, for now, Yennefer lay next to her comfortably, revelling in the temporary silence provided by the night. Tissaia, who had been looking at anything but her, now mustered her closely, breathing out an oddly content sigh. Frowning, Yennefer turned her head and took in the expression on the rectoress’ face. An absentminded smile playing around her lips, the woman gazed into her eyes, eyebrows raised questioningly.

“You have an impressive legacy, but tell me honestly, is it everything you ever wanted?” Smile falling from her lips, the sorceress turned her eyes towards the fires burning around the sleeping places. Her contentment seemingly gone, she fiddled with the mattress below her before seemingly deciding on an answer.

“Legacies are something for you, Yennefer. I never really thought about that, what I needed was a purpose. There was someone, a long time ago, and I… well I lost them – lost her. After that, I just needed to regain control, to keep me occupied. It took me a long time to realize that control was something I could only get by being alone. I lost her and I realized that nobody would ever love me the way I needed to be loved, at least I still think so.” That last sentence got Yennefer’s attention, seeing as the wording was similar to a memory of hers, and she couldn’t help but wonder whether that was the whole version of what the woman had once spit in her face with cold indifference.

“But enough of that nonsense, tell me what happened with Virfuril, I may have heard reports, but I have a feeling I might want to hear your part of the story,” Tissaia said with an air of indifference. Not thinking she could ever be loved the right way sounded so sad in Yennefer’s ears, and she couldn’t fathom who would ever dare call that kind of misplaced feeling nonsense. Over a short period of time, Yennefer acknowledged that Tissaia was worthy of being loved, even if she herself had spent most of her life hating the woman.

Not arguing with the woman, Yennefer obliged with her wish and recounted the situation with the assassin which had occurred 23 years prior to this evening. She also told the woman of every other event she had somehow gotten wind of over the years since she had the distinct feeling that the rectoress actually needed something to ease her mind at the moment. So they talked for a long time, idle chitchat of the past making the time fly by with both of them growing more and more tired by the hour.

At some point, Yennefer looked at Tissaia, took in her mask through which thick rays of anxiety shone through and decided to take a risk by asking, “are you okay, Tissaia? You look scared.” Surprised at the candid question, the other woman looked at her with an open mouth, remaining quiet for but a moment.

“That’s because I am, Yennefer. I am scared of my girls dying tomorrow because I brought them here, and because I am scared that even my last night in this world I’ll have to spend alone, like all the others that came before,” she murmured somewhat vaguely, refusing to look into Yennefer’s eyes directly. The younger woman considered the situation she was presented with before taking any action that might end in a disaster. Personally she didn’t like the decision she made, for it was way too constricting for her liking.

Heaving a sigh, she told Tissaia that her girls had brought themselves to Sodden, just like the two of them had and, after snaking her arm under the other woman’s torso, she pulled her closer, basically making her lie on top of her, and said, “if being alone tonight scares you, then you could just stay right here if you wanted to.”

* * *

Tissaia’s shock at being pulled on top of Yennefer without warning caused her to stay, and after she’d recovered from that shock, she already felt too comfortable to move away from the raven-haired sorceress. Regret almost washed over her when they woke up in the morning, her having rolled over at some point in the night only to find Yennefer’s arm firmly holding her against the sorceress' front.

Some of the sorcerers had apparently been too scared of the imposing sight that was Nilfgaardian troops approaching them and had made a run for the hills. Now their force was depleted to 22, and Tissaia noted with a heavy heart that her girls were all here, displaying more bravery than could be called healthy.

Vilgefortz had them press against walls as they had no idea what the Nilfgaardians were capable of throwing at them. The rectoress stared blankly at the place where the Nilfgaardians had set up camp, only vaguely listening to Triss and Atlan talking as she made a few decisions regarding her girls.

Getting up from her sitting position, she watched in horror as unnatural fog spread through the forest below. Vilgefortz meanwhile called them to action, stating that they couldn’t wait for the northern armies. Tissaia knew he was right, and yet she wished desperately for another way out.

While the sorcerer ordered ten of them onto the fields below, she knew that she didn’t want any of her girls out there. Before she could do anything, Coral was off to the fields with them, positioning herself. Not thinking twice, she invaded Sabrina’s personal space and ordered her to take the peasants to the artillery room, which really overstated the condition the room found itself in.

The blonde nodded, and left without another word, knowing that none were needed as they always had been on speaking terms. Swiftly motioning towards Triss, she instructed the woman to stay with her, seeing the anxious look on her face.

Moving over to Yennefer, the woman already looking at her expectantly, she put her hand on the sorceress’ elbow and told her to keep watch on the tower. Stepping away from her as though she had just been burned, Yennefer incredulously asked, “the tower? You cannot be serious right now, so you’re saying I’m good enough for keeping you company but not to do something real?”

Keeping her neutral mask firmly in place, or at least hoping she did, she tried calming Yennefer, arguing, “that is not what I’m saying. I need you up there to do two things: one, preserve your chaos in case we need your strength. Did you honestly think Sabrina wouldn’t tell me about the feathers last night? The second thing I need you to do is keep order, you have exceptional talent when it comes to your sight, and your thought transference is pretty far-reaching if rumours are to be believed. Without you up there, our forces are blind, is that important a task enough for you?”

She did not receive an answer, instead, Yennefer stormed off, reminding her of old times. Shaking her head softly, she turned to Triss and led get onto the field just below the castle walls, waiting for their go. The other sorceress may be angry at her, but she wouldn’t fail them.

Suddenly, Yennefer’s voice echoed in her head, asking if anyone could hear her. Clearing her head to avoid any interferences, she heard her own name being called in a firm, yet somewhat icy, voice. _“I can,”_ she sent back, awaiting instruction.

_“Well good, then do me a favour and trust me for once in your cursed life-"_ Tissaia closed her eyes, reminding herself that the other woman just lashed out because the anger coursed through her veins – _“they’re closing in.”_ She turned to Triss, giving her the signal that the time for her to cast her magic had come.

Foolishly giving in to the urge to answer, she told Yennefer, _“I never doubted your abilities.”_ Watching Triss slouch down to connect with the earth and summon poisonous mushrooms to neutralize a large part of the approaching army. She tried her best to ignore the cruel laugh echoing in her head, tried to ignore her being called a lying bitch.

_“Oh? No retort, no objection? You won’t justify how you wanted to lie about Istredd having been the one to fuck me over? No need to, of course, I already know that you did that to hide the fact that you lost control over that one. Your fear of being weak is pathetic,”_ the mocking insults cut deep, especially since they weren’t true and Tissaia hoped desperately for Yennefer to know that. She probably denied it to avoid facing difficult truths, she thought.

_“No, weak may be something I never want to be but it’s not why I lied to you. I lied because I thought it would be easier for you to hate me than Istredd since you always disliked me anyways. Now can we stop fighting? This is neither the time nor the place,”_ Tissaia didn’t know why she was this honest in the middle of a battle, but she desperately wanted the other woman to stop her vicious attack on her. Because while she certainly had been far from perfect, she also didn’t deserve being treated as though she hadn’t even tried.

Yennefer did not stop, however, and Tissaia breathed in hard when she heard her say, _“even now you lie. Why though? I already know you're a coward. Have known since you bought me for four marks instead of getting me in a way that didn't make me feel worthless. Tell me, have you always been a pathetic coward?”_

By now Tissaia got the distinct feeling that this might not only be about Yennefer being stuck in the tower. Forcing herself to ignore the scathing question, she answered, _“if Stregobor’s rat hadn’t sent you back I could’ve just gone into the tower and gotten you from there. You deserved better than that family either way and no matter how many insults you throw at me, I look at you now and all I am is glad to have gotten you out of there before your potential was wasted, now please focus on the task at hand.”_

Instead of an answer, she received the silent treatment. Glad about the opportunity to recover from the expertly dealt blows, she turned to Triss with a forced smile and guided her away from the field. The young woman’s affinity for plant magic may have been tremendously helpful thus far, but in the open field, the time-consuming practice would do little good. Tissaia would be damned if she let Triss stay on the field and get herself killed in the process.

Just as they were about to pass the gate, Tissaia stopped, hearing the beautiful voice speaking even more cruel words. Yennefer went on about how she had never needed her help in the first place and accused Tissaia to be a cruel, calculating bitch who always had an excuse for everything. She pointed out how the rectoress had pulled her into this mess just to put her into a position of directing archers when to let their arrows fly. The more she insulted Tissaia, the more the woman realized that Yennefer truly didn’t need her anymore, much less want her.

The sorceress had never hidden her dislike for the rectoress, but she had also never been this openly hostile and Tissaia couldn’t understand what was going on with the woman now. Why spend the night by her side just to pull a full somersault on her now? Being just outside the walls she was able to look at Yennefer, wondering if she had always hated her that much. The other woman decidedly refused to even look at her, making it impossible for the rectoress to catch a glimpse of her beautiful violet eyes.

Yennefer’s words had cut deeper than she’d ever care to admit, though the tears she was holding back betrayed her. Gulping down a sigh, she pressed her lips together and came to the conclusion that there was only one thing left for her to do. If she was this good at meddling, then there was only one thing she’d be useful for right now.

She made sure Triss was safe behind the castle walls and looked up at Sabrina, who waved at her from out of the artillery room. Tissaia gave Vanielle a concerned smile, telepathically telling her to stay as safe as possible given the situation. The other woman froze disbelievingly when she realized that Tissaia was actually going out there again. The rectoress gave her no time to object as she turned on her heels and headed directly for the woods and, consequentially, directly into the thick fog without so much as a look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that! Please, leave a comment if you did. Or even if you didn't! Criticism is what makes all of us improve - so long as it is constructive, that is.


	9. Getting back up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yennefer sets fire to everyone - friend or foe - in front of her and then just vanishes, leaving Tissaia to (attempt) to look for her. Rude, much? But we know she couldn't help it, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world of the Witcher nor the Characters belong to me. I make no profit off of this and no copyright infringement was intended.  
> I did NOT almost forget it was Friday, no no, never. Also, I hope this one will be less heartbreaking for you all? No promises, though.

Tissaia may walk unsteadily, but she knew her legs would carry her to where she needed to be. The forest was eerily quiet, and she couldn’t she much further than three metres, no matter how hard she tried. That did not deter her, though, she had a goal to reach after all, and a catastrophe to prevent.

If there was even the slightest chance of talking sense into Fringilla, she had to seize it, for the sake of her girls. The rectoress was responsible for them, and while Vanielle was her friend and not one of her own, she’d never forgive herself if anything happened to the clever brunette with the warm, brown eyes. There was also Yennefer, of course. She was still hurt by the woman’s open display of hostility, yet she also still felt for her deeply, so she’d do anything to protect her from harm.

Fringilla came into view, standing imperially in the middle of a small clearing as though she was the Empress of Nilfgaard, and she immediately realized how slim her chances were. It didn’t weaken her resolve to die trying, her idealistic character again getting the best of her. She knew she’d made mistakes, and saving the girls – as well as the continent – seemed like the only way to rectify that.

If she died, she knew there were a few that would mourn her, Vanielle probably more than anyone. Tissaia thought nobody would necessarily need her anymore since most of her girls could take care of themselves. She had, as a matter of precaution, given Aretuza into the hands of Margarita Laux-Antille, who may be insufferable and displayed no interest in politics, but she was more than capable of leading a school.

She stocked as she heard Yennefer’s voice call out her name. Tissaia hadn’t expected to speak to her directly anymore, and yet she was. While wandering through the woods, she had to listen to Yennefer’s outburst of anger after Vilgefortz hadn’t listened to her and, as a result, had gone missing. Shortly after that, Nilfgaard had breached the gate, though Yennefer hadn’t elaborated on how they had done that.

Even over a relatively long distance, Tissaia had heard her commanding the others to take cover. Her voice had sounded so panicked that Tissaia had flinched, causing her to stumble over a fallen branch. The wave of shock she felt washing over her afterwards was not her own, though she couldn’t explain how she could possibly receive impressions of another sorceress’ genuine feelings, on accident and from so far away, no less.

Now that she was speaking to her, the sorceress didn’t sound quite as panicked, but there was still a sense of immense urgency in her voice when she said, “ _Tissaia, can you hear me? Tissaia! We must stop Fringilla!_ ” The rectoress didn’t see the necessity in answering because it was a rather obvious statement, and she didn’t know if it would be wise to tell Yennefer that she was standing right in front of the Nilfgaardian sorceress.

Closing the distance to the other woman, she calmly said, “it’s not too late, Fringilla.” As an answer, she just got a scoff and the argument that she had been told to stay out of this, that it was her fault they were here in the first place. Of course she was right, but Tissaia could never just sit there and wait for someone to take away everything she loved.

Not relenting in her efforts to save Fringilla from her madness, she insisted that she could come back, that Tissaia could help her. When she saw Fringilla’s indifferent expression the situation reminded her of the time she had tried to get Yennefer to come back.

To Tissaia, the mocking laugh was in no way worse a response than Yennefer coldness, though it was far darker than Yennefer ever could be. Fringilla's playful tone sent shivers down her spine as she said, “do you know how Nilfgaard took Cintra? 50 Skelligen ships sunk to the bottom of the sea, bested by a horrible storm.”

The joy at her own actions, at the fact that she had killed countless humans without batting an eye, was making the rectoress nauseous. How far gone was this woman? And when had it happened?

When she stated that it had been her without even a hint of doubt in her voice, a spark of pride. If pride was what would get through to her, then Tissaia needed a new approach, and she found one quickly, responding, “you’re worth more than Nilfgaard could ever give you, Fringilla, don’t you know that?” But it was in vain, for the mage looked at her with a mixture of disgust and pity as she walked past her.

She stopped for a moment as Tissaia turned around to face her, hoping that not all hope was lost. She did not expect Fringilla to whirl around, however, much less throw a black cloud of powder in her face. Not one to shy away from danger or her former students, she merely breathed in deeply as a response to the sudden movement, and that was her mistake.

The substance entered her respiratory system, and she realized pretty quickly that it was some sort of poison. Looking at the other woman with a shocked expression, she saw her grin and explain, “Dimeritium, enhanced one at that.”

Tissaia staggered back two steps before her legs gave out and she fell to her knees, gaze averted in an effort to gain her bearings and not look at her tormentor again. The powdered poison made her feel like her throat simultaneously burned and froze over while also feeling completely numb. It was the worst feeling she had ever felt.

“I don’t need your help,” Fringilla spit, looking down on her, “at least not anymore, rectoress.” Contempt coloured her voice as she watched the poisoned woman try desperately to breathe despite the pain it caused. Tissaia had lost all hope of saving her, instead feeling only grief upon the thought of having lost one of her girls to such a despicable cause.

Suddenly she was filled with regret. Regret that she hadn’t kept a closer eye on Fringilla, sent her somewhere else. She was sorry about failing Fringilla so epically that she had gone down this path, and because of what? Because Tissaia hadn’t kept a handle on her feelings. Yennefer, yet another regret she had. Not having told her where she was mere minutes ago, not having told her the truth about her affections the night before.

Even if she tried reaching her now, the Dimeritium was preventing her from using any sort of magic. She wondered briefly how it had been enhanced and where Nilfgaard had gotten it from, not to speak of the mystery of how Fringilla could use it so deliberately. The metal was pure poison to any mage, including the ones from Nilfgaard.

The Dimeritium would work its way through her entire system, slowly killing her while she lived through the terrible agony of fire and ice combined in one. Nobody knew she was here, so there was no hope for her to get an antidote. Never again would she talk to Vanielle, or make sure Triss was safe. Tissaia would never see Yennefer again, make things right, the way she should. The only thing comforting her was the knowledge that she wasn’t needed by any of them.

Trying to get up and out of the woods, she stumbled on a few paces, only making the effects of the poison worse before she collapsed. Seeing violet eyes in her mind, she reluctantly accepted her defeat and her end before her consciousness faded and her eyes closed.

* * *

The rectoress had been drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like an eternity. Now and again she had caught thoughts from the others, but she couldn’t make anything definitive off it. The fog had lifted, but the forest around her had grown dark, so she guessed she either lost her eyesight due to the poisoning or it had gotten dark in the meantime.

Coldness had settled into her very bones, making her shiver, though she couldn’t be sure if the coldness could be blamed for her shivering, as she felt sweat running down her forehead too. It may well be the poison making its way through her system, and she was unsure whether her being able to breathe more easily now was a good or a bad sign. It was probably the latter, though.

_“Tissaia, I need you,”_ Yennefer’s voice echoed through her head, louder than before. Maybe Yennefer had left the watchtower as the battle wore on, Tissaia thought. But then she realized she probably hallucinated, because the proud sorceress would never in a million years admit that she needed help, much less in such a blatant manner.

But did it matter if it was? Because if Yennefer really needed her help and Tissaia ignored her so blatantly, she thought while looking up with some difficulty as the poison now affected the functions of her muscles, she’d never forgive herself. So there really was only one thing for her to do: get back to the battlefield.

Stretching out her arm to pull herself up on a tree trunk, she hissed in pain as every muscle protested against the movement. Gasping in pain she concentrated her thoughts on the one thing that made her do all this in the first place: Yennefer. When she had finally managed to pull herself up into a sitting position, she sighed, knowing that it would get worse before it got better, but also unwilling to let poison keep her from attempting to reach her new goal.

Mind set on succeeding, she pulled herself together and, in one more or less fluent motion, she willed herself into a standing position. Tissaia didn’t hear anything else from the field, though she guessed the cause to be her struggle. The Dimeritium still blocked her own Chaos reserves, though not as severely as it had in the beginning.

Stumbling through the forest, she briefly wondered if her legs would carry her to her destination this time as well. Tissaia had always prided herself on her infallible instinct, but now she found herself in another situation entirely. Normally she didn’t have to fight poison every step of the way, but she’d be damned if she didn’t die trying.

* * *

The last of their mages were being slain by the Nilfgaardian soldiers as Yennefer stepped onto the battlefield. Darkness long since cloaked the castle, and had it not been on fire, she wouldn’t have been able to see it in the night. When she had left it, she passed by Triss, who screamed in agony while she was held by one of the peasants.

Triss had tried to keep the opposing soldiers out of the castle, creating a thorn bush that grew in the gate. Unfortunately, it had been dry and once the Nilfgaardians had gotten a hole in it, they thrust a torch through it, catching the sorceress by the shoulder. It was a bad burn, but with a little help, she’d live.

Yennefer wasn’t sure if the same could be said about Sabrina though. When they had fallen from the tower, she had managed to land on her feet like a cat, not sustaining any damage. Bu the blonde hadn’t been in control of her own body, thanks to the mindworm that the Nilfgaardian mage had smuggled it before he turned to dust. When she had gotten up, Sabrina had breathed an apology, which was all she was capable of doing with what Yennefer guessed was several broken ribs.

When she had discovered the two Nilfgaardian soldiers busying themselves with mutilating Coral's body, she felt a wave of disgust so strong she wanted to throw up. Instead she had killed them, effectively breaking their neck the same way Coral had earlier in the battle. Thinking back to how she had told the other woman to come back to the keep and how she ignored her demand not to stop, Yennefer was torn between mourning her or feel anger at her stupidity.

The sudden reconnection to Vilgefortz had surprised her since she’d thought he died from falling from the hill after his battle. She could feel him clearly for a few minutes, clear enough to recognise something significant had changed about him. When she asked if he was still with them, he shut her out, cutting his connection to her. That had been long before the sun went down.

Now she staggered over the field, corpses of both their and the Nilfgaardian side all around her, some desperate mages still trying to hold back the enemy. It didn’t look too good, unless a miracle presented itself to them. And that might yet happen, Yennefer thought as she made out the shadowy figure of a woman, standing completely still.

Moving quickly towards the woman, whose hands were stretched out in front of her with a faint glow around them, no doubt an invisibility charm for her protection, Yennefer called out to her, “Tissaia? You’re alive! Thank the gods, I need your help. Sabrina too, she’s in the keep.” At that, the other woman turned around. It was indeed Tissaia, but she looked a lot different than a few hours before, blood ran from her nose and sweat was covering her sharp features.

Just as the sorceress noticed how unfocused Tissaia’s green eyes were, the other woman gasped, “Yennefer.” Her eyes were red as though she’d been crying, and her expression was one of pain as she reached out to Yennefer. Before she could reach her fully, however, the rectoress looked away down and groaned in pain, her legs apparently growing weak as she fell to her knees, clutching her midriff.

“No, we can’t give up,” she insisted, rushing to the brunette’s side and grabbing her hands and holding them tightly, explaining that the Northern Kingdoms were close. Tissaia looked up at her as though trying to make sense of the situation, as though she tried to figure out where she fit into all of that.

Something had happened to her, Yennefer thought, and it was something bad. Maybe even as life-threatening as Sabrina’s fall from the tower by the looks of it, and yet she was here. She had defied her pain because Yennefer had needed her, to be there for her as she always had. The prospect of Tissaia dying was more terrifying than Yennefer had anticipated it to be and she felt fear unlike any other she’d experienced before.

The woman in front of her let out a sob, and it scared her even more to see the normally composed woman in so much pain she lost control. Out of an impulse, she didn’t understand herself, she murmured in a soft voice, “You... you saved me, Tissaia. I won’t ever forget that!”

At that, Tissaia looked at her with a newfound sharpness in her eyes, a slight smile on her face. An unfamiliar softness entered her eyes as she said, “it’s your turn, to save these people, this Continent. This will be your legacy.” Talking took a lot of effort from the rectoress and she bowed her head, swallowing thickly as she gripped Yennefer’s hands with an iron grip.

The young sorceress protested, saying that she couldn’t, that she didn’t know how to, but Tissaia wasn’t having it. She looked into her violet eyes, her own shining with certainty and pride as she insisted, “you can! You just need to remember... everything you’ve ever felt, everything you’ve buried-" she hummed contently and softly put one of her gloved hands against Yennefer’s cheek, a smile entering her face and by now she positively beamed at her with pride and something else, something strong that Yennefer couldn’t quite place.

When she told Yennefer to forget about the bottle and instead let her Chaos explode, she knew exactly what the rectoress wanted from her. Timidly, she nodded her head in understanding, still not feeling well at the thought of Tissaia’s death or even the possibility thereof. The woman looked at her as though she thought she was going to unleash an inferno and let it swallow her, but she was wrong. Yennefer would do her best not to harm a single hair on her head.

Gazing at Tissaia, who still smiled at her with all the warmth she had never shown her before, she breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. Her hand softly touching the fabric that covered Tissaia’s forearm, she held onto the other women and brought their foreheads together in an effort to feel close to her again. Just in case she failed, because if today taught her anything, then that sorcerers should never overestimate themselves, lest they end up the same way poor Coral did.

Feeling the rectoress’ intense gaze on her as well as her more or less relaxing into Yennefer, she instinctively knew the other was saying goodbye. Gently taking Tissaia’s hand from her cheek she stood up, the other clinging to her as though she didn’t want to let go, and for a second she forgot that there were Nilfgaardian soldiers slowly but surely coming closer. She let herself hold her hands for a moment before turning and walking back a few paces to a big rock that looked as though it had been put there for her to use as a stage.

She heard the other sorceress gasp behind her as she too stood up from her sitting position, though it took her a lot more effort than it had Yennefer. The raven-haired woman concentrated on the fire currently devouring the castle in the distance as she recalled all the scathing remarks, harassments and general audacities shown to her over the years. When she replayed the confrontation with Tissaia in Tor Lara all those years ago, and how she had questioned her capabilities, she knew that it didn’t have much of an effect anymore, but the ice in the woman’s voice was still enough to fuel her fury.

The fire at the castle dimmed until it went out completely, and Yennefer felt the amount of power coursing through her whole body. It was a power unlike anything Yennefer had ever felt, and at that moment, she knew that with it, she could do anything she wanted. It whispered to her, tempting her with endless possibilities, telling her she could keep this power forever, if only she let it devour her whole.

As she climbed steadily onto the rock, she momentarily played with the thought of giving in to the power, but when her gaze landed upon Tissaia, who had come closer to the rock and whose face was still beaming with pride, she knew she would never do that. Holding this power forever was not worth the cost of her soul. So she turned her eyes to the approaching soldiers, and suddenly she just felt what she needed to do.

Envisioning a violent firestorm, Yennefer spread her arms and let out a scream, freeing all the anger and frustration she had ever felt and released the power she held within her. Just evaporating everything in front of her would have been the easiest choice, because it wouldn’t require her to use her own Chaos reserves at all.

But then, Tissaia would burn too, and Yennefer wasn’t having that, at all. So as she screamed, she paid close attention to the amount of control she let loose while directing the control she kept towards the rectoress, mentally building an oval formed shield around her. It was extremely energy-consuming, but she was stubborn and determined not to harm her in any way.

From the corner of her eyes, she could see the woman cower, probably overwhelmed by the heat around her and thinking this is her end. When she didn’t burn, however, she slowly raised her head, looking at Yennefer in wonder as she got up again. Too enraptured to truly notice any of that, the screaming sorceress felt the power slowly deplete from her body. Not just the power she had absorbed from the fire, but also her own.

She could also feel the life-forces diminishing as both enemies and allies perished in the fire she unleashed upon them. Yennefer felt neither pity nor victory, she just felt relief at the diminishing anger and power inside her. That, however, caused her to disregard her own dwindling power to the point where she almost evaporated on the spot, herself.

The forest below soon was nothing more than charred sticks and stones, having been swallowed whole by the firestorm. Nothing in or around it had any chance at survival – except for Tissaia, who was still standing in front of the rock. Taking a deep, shuddering breath after letting the last of the foreign power go, she took one last look at the rectoress before she felt her own weakness.

On some level, she knew that she wouldn’t be of much use to anyone in this state anymore. But she really hoped that her friends were going to be fine. Her initial hope had been for Tissaia to take care of Sabrina and Triss’ wounds, but the woman was in need of assistance herself. However, she hadn’t lied when it came to the Northern Kingdoms being close. Earlier on, a crow had flown over her head, letting her know that Foltest was indeed not too far away from them.

The Northern Armies would have healers for Sabrina and Triss, she thought, what kind of army went out without healers capable of mending bones, after all. Tissaia, however, worried her, as she had no clue as to what had been done to her. It was either a nasty spell or something internal, but for now, she couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she wanted the woman to be okay again.

Her head was spinning, making her nauseous. Not able to think straight, she just had a feeling of being unsafe, and with it came the feeling of having to get away. It was the exact same feeling she had had as a child. It was the feeling that had caused her to teleport into the Tower of the Gull. That had been a survival instinct, the same one that was triggered now.

The slight gust of wind was the only thing that she consciously comprehended before she found herself in another environment entirely. Here it was also dark, but the air didn’t smell of burned wood or flesh. It was the fresh scent of the thousand flowers surrounding her. Having spent the last of her power, Chaos slowly gnawing at her own lifeforce, she surrendered and fell unconscious.

* * *

It took Tissaia several seconds to gather her bearings and realize what had happened. Gazing around, she took in the many corpses burned to charcoal, wondering how many of them had been on their side. It wasn’t Yennefer’s fault, they had to win against Nilfgaard.

Yennefer, where was she? Head snapping back to the rock where the woman had just been a minute ago, just to find that she was gone. It was quite clear the woman wasn’t there, and yet Tissaia breathed, “Yennefer?”

There were five different possible explanations as to why she wasn’t there anymore, and one was worse than another, most of which involved her likely death. In the distance, she could hear heavy footsteps, announcing an approaching army, but she couldn’t be bothered by that right now. Frantically she looked around, searching for the raven-haired sorceress who was nowhere to be found.

She stumbled across the field, screaming her name over and over again, in strict denial that the woman was simply gone from one second to another. This could not be happening, Tissaia decidedly had not taken the risk of facing Fringilla only to end up having Yennefer sacrifice herself. And for what? To keep her safe? Of all people that had perished in the firestorm, Tissaia was the only one to escape unscathed. Why would the foolish girl do that, she asked herself as she stumbled over the field, still calling out for her.

Desperation and panic were colouring her voice and by now she had crossed half of the field, not noticing the shadowy figures approaching her. In fact, she did not notice them until they gripped her, bringing her back to reality, making her realize how much every fibre of her body hurt. In front of her were a heavily bandaged Triss and one of the peasants she couldn’t recall the name of.

Her mind rapidly grew hazy, but she zeroed in on Triss, stammering out the question of where Yennefer was. Triss looked at her with pity in her eyes and murmured, “sh, calm down, we’ll find her, I promise!” And with that reassurance, Tissaia’s consciousness faded. She fought it as hard as possible, wanting to help during the search, but the young woman’s oozing voice lulled her into the depths of sweet unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was the last chapter that followed canon! From here on out, I'll be on my own, heh, oops. This will be the last time we see Triss in a while, too, as I've just remembered. I hope you liked it and if so, be kind enough to comment. Stay safe, all of you wonderful people out there!


	10. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our ladies are separated and need some rest. Does that mean Tissaia rests up before trying to find Yennefer? Of course not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world of the Witcher nor its Characters belong to me. No profit is made and no copyright infringement was intended.  
> Here's to all the people who had to work today: I hope you survived it well enough and are ready for some distraction from real life!

Dizziness was the first feeling Tissaia could identify as she awoke slowly, with thirst following suit. Her eyes would only open slowly, her sight not focused at all. Above her was white, below her a soft mattress and she was covered by what she assumed was a blanket, so the rectoress’ best guess was that she had been brought indoors after passing out.

As she tried to turn onto her side, her body protested and she couldn’t suppress a groan of discomfort, which made her aware of how dry her throat was. Muffled steps indicated a person approaching her and a flurry of orange robes and brown hair entered her view. A hand turned her onto her back again, immediately helping her into a slightly more upright position as a cup was pressed against her lips.

Greedily she drank as much of the water as she could. The person mumbled something soothing at her, Tissaia realized it was a woman, telling her something about poison, a fever and rest. Her mind was too muddled to make sense of anything and the amount of exhaustion she felt let her sink back into the soft cushions with little protest, an uneasy sleep, plagued by fever dreams soon claiming her.

A few hours later, Tissaia shot up, drenched in sweat, gasping, “Yennefer!” Looking around frantically, she realized again that she was in a bed and not on the field anymore. In her own bed, in fact. She was also still feeling dizzy, which caused her to fall back onto her back with a groan as a wave of nausea hit her.

“Now, now, slowly there, rectoress. You may not be on death’s doorstep anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’re all fine all of a sudden.” Startled, Tissaia looked in the general direction from which the voice had come. Margarita was leaning against one of her bookcases, gazing at her with an amused yet slightly worried expression.

As she gazed around, Rita’s expression turned pitiful and she went over to sit next to her, mumbling, “Yennefer isn’t here, Tissaia, neither is Vanielle, I’m sorry.” She didn’t understand what was so bad to warrant the look on Margarita’s face, Vanielle could just come by later and she hadn’t expected Yennefer to suddenly see her as her new bestie anyway.

Some water splashed on her nightstand and Margarita went on to dab her face with a wet cloth. While doing that, she went on to explain how Tissaia’s body needed more rest, asking her to take it slow as the fever had only just subsided, and not even fully. A slight smile appeared on her face when the rectoress asked if they had won. Telling her that the Northern Armies had defeated Nilfgaard the day after the mages battle, she also let slip that that had happened four days ago.

“Four days? I’ve been out for four days? How are the others? Yennefer mentioned Sabrina needing help, and how are Vanielle and Triss?” Rita looked conflicted, biting her lower lip. She made Tissaia promise that she’d stay calm and in bed, and an uneasy feeling settled within her.

Scooting closer to her, firmly placing a hand on her shoulder and breathing deeply, Margarita said, “Sabrina will be fine as soon as she stops feeling ashamed for falling victim to a mindworm. Vanielle, however… I’m so sorry, but she’s gone, and so is Triss.”

It took her a few moments to truly register the other woman’s words before she whispered her best friend’s name, denial overcoming her forcefully. Hesitantly, Margarita continued, “they’re building a monument for the fallen and engrave all the names. There were so many charred bodies that it was impossible to identify them all, but it’s been four days, and nobody has been able to find Triss… or Yennefer for that matter, so their names will be among the fifteen that died in Sodden. As soon as you’re better I can take you there so you can say goodbye to them, to Vanielle and Coral too.”

Tissaia averted her eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling. The blonde continued filling her in, telling her that they had recovered Vanielle’s body from the keep as well as Coral’s, not that Tissaia was actively listening. She could not believe that Triss and Yennefer were dead. Vanielle was plausible, though painful to admit to herself, but she had already stopped feeling her during the battle, so she should’ve guessed something was wrong. Now she had done it, she had officially talked herself into feeling like the worst friend on the Continent.

Yennefer and Triss were still not dead though, they couldn’t be. Triss had been the one to find her after the battle when she had frantically searched the battlefield for Yennefer, and she had been very much alive. Bandaged and injured, yes, but very much breathing. That Yennefer was one of the charred bodies was… theoretically possible, she could admit that based on the amount of energy she had used, but still, she was not dead.

Refusing to accept even the possibility of the woman’s demise after saving her, she rolled onto her side with some difficulty, turning her back on Margarita. The sorceress quieted down, looking at her with a perplexed expression. Clearing her throat, she awkwardly said, “alright, I see this is apparently a lot to take in so I’m going to give you some space. Take as much time as you need, but please accept that they are gone. If they weren’t, they would’ve been found by now… I’ll come back with dinner in a few hours.”

When the rectoress heard the door click behind the blonde, she let a tear roll over her cheek, hoping she could just swallow down the rest. She couldn’t, however, so what ensued was a flood that broke through metaphorical gates and Tissaia was more than glad that Rita had left her to her own devices instead of staying to witness her weakness.

Rationally she knew that the amount of power the raven-haired sorceress had forced herself to use would’ve been enough to turn any normal sorcerer into a pitiful pile of ash. Normal, however, had never applied to her and the rectoress was all too aware of that. Even so, the likelihood of her being among the corpses was high for any person using their common sense.

If only Tissaia was using that, but she wasn’t. Deep down she had hope that Yennefer was not dead, that she had somehow survived and gotten away from that forsaken Hill that had – allegedly – cost 15 of their sorcerers their lives. Her Yennefer was not among those 15, she just wasn’t. Tissaia couldn’t lose Vanielle and Yennefer in one go, and she had no hope at deluding herself into thinking that her best friend was still out there.

The two of them had spent a few lifetimes together, but as with every true friendship, it was never truly enough. There could always be more, but now there wouldn’t be more and all Tissaia could feel at the thought of that was heartbreak, sorrow and despair. She couldn’t believe this was happening, not after she had specifically told her to stay safe.

She couldn’t help but wonder when and how she had died. Had she been alone? Had her last seconds been spent in fear, agony? Or had it gone over quickly, painless? Vanielle had deserved better, and she deserved better than her name being engraved in some stupid stone. It was a nice gesture, for sure, but Tissaia just felt like it wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. While she was laying in bed, she marvelled at how unfair it was, how much she wanted her best friend back, that she wanted to switch places with her as she bawled her eyes out in a way she hadn’t since she had been a little girl.

Yet she knew that just this once, it was out of her control and all she could do was mourn Vanielle of Brugge and always keep her in her memory, the way she had been. As the thoughtful, warm-hearted and diplomatic woman, she had been, always ready to come to her aide and give her advice whenever she was ready to accept it from the other.

Her thoughts spun in circles from there on out. Mostly thinking about Vanielle her mind sometimes wandered to Yennefer and where she might’ve ended up, but ultimately, they always came back to her now dead friend, her imagination making up the most gruesome of situations that could’ve happened in the keep while she hadn’t been there. And every time she came back to that thought of herself having been absent, a new wave of sobs washed over her.

Had anyone asked what Tissaia experienced at this moment, the most accurate thing she could say would be that it felt like a part of her had died. The more she thought about it and realized the situation she now was in, the more she came to terms with the fact that, unless she turned to necromancy, Vanielle was gone, and she had no idea how she would continue from here on out. The prospect of not even being able to ask for the other woman’s advice broke her heart, leaving it in tiny pieces. She knew full well that a life without her was possible, but that didn’t mean she wanted it.

* * *

True to her word, Margarita had returned a few hours later. The rectoress was extremely thankful when she didn’t say anything, taking her non-reaction as a clear sign that she wasn’t ready for basic human interaction and just set down a tray of food next to her bed. She also put a small plate with dry bread right in front of her face, which was still facing the wall, reminding her that she should take it easy and give her body as much rest as possible before bidding her goodnight.

She knew that the blonde had refrained from asking her to drink water to stay hydrated in order to spare her dignity, or what was left of it, and Tissaia was immensely grateful for that. She snatched a piece of bread from her place under the blanket, trying desperately not to think about how disappointed her old mentor would be if she saw her in this position. Not the first time she was glad that the old bag was not around any longer.

Darkness settled over her room and she forced herself to turn around and drink the water that had been left on her nightstand. She noticed that the small bucket of water and the cloth Margarita had used were still there, right next to the bed, so she used the cloth to clean her face of the salty tear tracks. She had the uncomfortable feeling of not yet being done crying, but it was worth a try.

Shuddering at the prospect of sleep, she knew any rest she subjected herself to would be plagued by nightmares again. Tissaia also felt the irresistible pull of exhaustion, sleep was inevitable, even for a sorceress. Especially a wounded one who was still on the road to recovery.

Mind turning back to those she lost, she felt thick tears roll down her face yet again, but this time she was calm. With that calmness in her, she closed her eyes and gave herself over into the unrelenting depths of her dreams.

* * *

“Rise and shine, rectoress! Or, actually, don’t rise. Let me examine you first.” It was way too early for Tissaia to be woken by such a cheerful voice. She knew the voice, too, had listened to snarky comments in a similar tone coming from this person for years. Begrudgingly opening her eyes, Tissaia saw an energetic Philippa Eilhart barrel through her chambers, directly towards her.

Carefully sitting up she greeted her with as even a voice as she could manage, “Philippa, I’m surprised Vizimir let you out of the castle, seeing as you didn’t manage to join us in Sodden.” She wasn’t bitter about it, not even disappointed. Phil had been one of her best students, she wouldn’t have wanted her in danger too.

“Vizimir? That man couldn’t tell me what to do if he ever started trying. Now relax, I’m just here to check your vitals and then I’ll be out of your hair in no time.” Redania's king truly never stood a chance against Philippa. Though, thinking about it, very few normal humans ever did. She wasn’t only snarky, though, she was also quite perceptive, and so she never actually overstayed her welcome.

It didn’t take long for Philippa to finish her task as she had always worked proficiently. When the rectoress looked at the brunette with a questioning expression, the other sighed and explained, “you won’t like what I have to say. It was a close call with the poison, you see, we had no idea how to get enhanced Dimeritium out of your system after it had spread out. You almost died, as I’m sure dear Margarita mentioned, and as a result, your body needs rest. Take it as an opportunity to mourn the fallen.”

Tissaia’s mood grew sour and she hissed at Philippa, stating that she refused to believe Yennefer had died. Bitterness soon turned into surprise when the other woman broke out into a laugh. Looking at her incredulously, Tissaia waited for her to calm down and explain herself.

“Tissaia, dear,” she purred with a broad smile on her face, “I may not know her as well as you do, but even I know that our beloved Yennefer is far too stubborn to simply die. So rest up, because judging by your reaction, you’re rather eager to find her.” With that, the brunette got up and energetically strode back to the door.

With her hand on the handle, she hesitated before turning around one last time, telling Tissaia that she had been at Sodden with a small group of spies. Philippa looked at her mournfully and apologized for not having been able to take out the archers before Fringilla helped them kill Vanielle. Giving the woman the slightest of smiles, Tissaia assured her that it wasn’t her fault, and she shouldn’t blame herself.

The fact that Philippa had chosen a covert mission to help defeat Nilfgaard betrayed another characteristic Tissaia had long since noticed about her: she was cunning. Even during her time at Aretuza, she had gathered intel on everyone she could, waiting until it became useful to her. The rectoress was convinced that she still hadn’t played all the cards she had from way back.

Mulling over their conversation as she drank some of the water the brunette had left her, Tissaia wondered if her reaction had been the only thing that had made Philippa sound so mischievous. The rectoress knew that she was capable of transforming into an owl, and if she had been at Sodden, there was no way for her to be sure what else she’d seen. She briefly considered recalling her stay at the keep to remember if she’d been too focused on her tasks and Yennefer to notice a bird anywhere.

Putting down her empty cup, she eased back into bed. It was true, she hadn’t liked being told she needed rest, but if that was what it took to get out there as soon as possible, then so be it. She would rest, give her body the time it needed, and while that happened, she’d talk to Margarita.

The woman had done an excellent job as acting rectoress so far, so Tissaia didn’t see why she couldn’t take care of Aretuza and its students for her a while longer. Who knows, maybe Tissaia would give teaching up for good one day, depending on how things went. She’d spent decades at Aretuza, serving the brotherhood as rectoress and receiving very little appreciation in return, so maybe it was time. But first, it was time for her to continue sleeping. No matter how uncomfortable the dreams may get.

* * *

It had been ten days since the battle of Sodden, ten days of laying in bed for Tissaia. Granted, four of them she had been in a coma and another three were spent almost exclusively asleep, but that didn’t change the fact that it had been ten days. The rectoress was itching to get out of bed and finally leave Aretuza to find Yennefer.

Unfortunately, Philippa had chosen this exact time to turn into the voice of reason, effectively putting her foot down and ordering her to stay in bed as long as possible, or in an armchair, if she absolutely had to. Tissaia had only followed those ridiculous orders because, in return, Philippa had promised her to unveil a detail that Tissaia needed to start her search. The location of Yennefer’s house. The only reason Tissaia didn’t know about that was that the sorceress had moved at some point and, since they hadn’t been in touch regularly, there hadn’t been a reason for her to know her address in the first place.

On the morning of the tenth day, Tissaia had growled at the younger sorceress, telling her that she’d leave soon whether she’d give her the information or not. Philippa, on the other hand, had playfully rolled her eyes and jested, “it was good while it lasted. Go to Vengerberg, dear, I’ll have one of my men show you to her house.” Breathing in a sigh of relief, Tissaia thanked the brunette who only shook her head in amusement.

Midday the same day, Tissaia had requested Margarita come talk to her, and the woman had been there almost instantly, asking if she was okay. Chuckling mildly at the display of concern, she told the blonde to calm down. Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, she simply asked Margarita if she felt she could fill her position for a while longer.

When the other woman said that she would gladly play rectoress for as long as Tissaia needed her to and inquired how long she’d be gone, she grew hesitant. Not quite sure how Rita would react to her plans, she carefully said, “I cannot say at this time, probably for longer than a month. You see, I decided to go look for Yennefer.”

Margarita looked at her as though she had lost her mind completely. Starring at her blankly for a few moments, processing the information given to her, Tissaia waited for the bomb to blow up, so to speak. And it did, for Margarita then incredulously yelled, “are you out of your mind, Tissaia? Why would you go looking for a dead girl? With all due respect, but if she was alive, we would have found her by now. It’s almost been two weeks, she’s dead, Tissaia, I thought you spend all this time mourning?”

She wasn’t wrong, Tissaia had spent six days mourning, but not Yennefer. She had mourned Coral and Triss, Atlan and, most of all, Vanielle. But even if she were dead, she could never mourn Yennefer. The others were enough, too. Tissaia had cried until there were no tears left to cry, then she’d drink enough water to rehydrate and go to sleep, only for the cycle to begin anew.

Thinking of Vanielle still made her heart grow heavy, but by now she knew she could manage, even if it would prove to be hard. Managing without Yennefer, on the other hand, was not an option, so she had to go and look for her, no matter what Margarita thought about it. Calmly she told the woman that she was of the firm belief that Yennefer was still alive and that she would not stop looking for her anytime soon. The blonde still thought she had lost her mind, but when she saw the determination on the rectoress’ face, she knew she couldn’t talk her out of it.

She had thrown her hands in the air, agreeing to her, as she put it, oafish plan and to guarding Aretuza in the meantime. After that, she took Tissaia to Sabrina’s room one last time. The young blonde was still bound to her bed, the potions and herbs were working wonders, but even they couldn’t mend three broken ribs in a matter of two weeks.

Sabrina had looked up when they’d entered the room, a fleeting expression of shame apparent in her eyes as she saw Tissaia, even though they had talked about this. The young woman was still obsessed with being the best, and being bested by a mindworm from Nilfgaard did nothing but destroy her aspirations. She still needed a lot of time to understand that those tiny creatures could’ve even overcome Tissaia with little effort.

Yennefer had also been friends with Sabrina and the two had been quite fond of each other, even if they didn’t keep in touch much, so Sabrina naturally held onto the hope that the raven-haired woman had survived. In fact, she made Tissaia promise not to stop looking until there was definitive proof of her death, and to tell her if anything turned up. The rectoress more than readily agreed to do that, knowing how close the two of them could get.

After this conversation, she had gone down to the kitchen, ordering some provisions be made ready for her by dawn, which is exactly when she planned to leave. When Margarita voiced her doubts about her leaving so soon, she only bit back, “I appreciate your concern, but I am obviously fine or otherwise Phil wouldn’t let me leave, and you’ve been running this school for the last two weeks and have done great so far.”

Philippa had chosen this to be the perfect moment for an interruption, joking that Rita shouldn’t mess with her now that her strength had returned, reminding her that Tissaia could win any form of battle Rita chose. When Rita refrained from commenting on the situation any further, the rectoress felt a sudden pang of gratitude, but also confusion. Looking at the two women, she couldn’t help but wonder when Philippa had become so authoritative.

Her sleep that night was dreamless and she woke again well-rested at the break of dawn as she had planned. Getting dressed in trousers and a shirt for a change, she grabbed her extra sets of clothes and left for the kitchen. There she had a nice breakfast with Phil and Rita, who were both relaxed for a change.

The two of them decided to escort her to the other side of the bridge that connected Thanedd to Gors Velen before saying goodbye. Philippa reminded her that she was to send regular updates, seeing as she’d find out one way or another but still preferred the easy way. Amused, Tissaia shook her head before nodding at them one last time and disappearing into the direction of the stables. If she was to reach Vengerberg anytime soon, she’d need a horse, because even she had to admit that opening a portal would still not be the best idea for her recovering body.

The owner of the stables knew her well, and as he still owed her several favours, he gave her his best horse without questioning why. She paid him, of course, but less than any other person might have for the elegant creature. It proved to be a good horse, too, with enough stamina for a good canter over several miles. She had everything she needed, all she had to hope for was not getting lost along the way, but that shouldn’t be much of a problem, Tissaia thought, and she was right.

* * *

Yennefer was weaker than she’d ever felt. Whenever she managed to open her eyes, though not very wide, all she saw were blurred schemes. Her hearing was dimmed as well, causing everything around her to blend so she could only make out faint hums that always seemed far away.

After teleporting herself into the midst of a Valley of flowers, she had fallen unconscious and had not really woken since. She hadn’t even stirred when the elves of Dol Blathana had taken her to one of their safer caves to treat her. For reasons only partly known to the elves, Filavandrel had ordered them to do everything in their power to make sure she would survive.

It was not an easy feat, as the sorceress soon developed a terrible fever and started muttering in her sleep. From what she deliriously shared unknowingly, the elves could have guessed that she had been the one to set fire to the Nilfgaardian soldiers at Sodden and that she cared a great deal about someone named Tissaia. They could’ve guessed that had they not been told before that. At the edge of the world, they rarely ever got any news from the outside world, especially since their bond to the humans was frosty at best, but they had heard about the battle.

One day after it had taken place, Enid an Gleanna had paid them a visit. The mage had demanded an audience with Filavandrel, a private one. After that, the elven king had sent a group of elves to the Valley, telling them they were to look for a raven-haired woman with violet eyes. It hadn’t taken the elves long to find the woman as their Sylvan friend had noticed her only a few hours prior.

The elves knew that the woman whose name was mumbled frequently was Tissaia de Vries, rectoress of Aretuza, school of sorceresses. She was known by the elves, as were most members of the chapter that lead the brotherhood of sorcerers, though Enid only seldomly visited and never told them much, seeing as she thought them to be too hot-headed. Not that she was terribly wrong with that assessment.

After Enid an Gleanna had left a day later, Filavandrel went to check on the sorceress in their care as well as the team that tried to save her. The king told them all he knew about the battle and current status of the war with Nilfgaard. The elves had asked why they helped a woman who had stood against a country that promised them freedom, only for Filavandrel to respond, “because this is Yennefer of Vengerberg, she is special and important. Not only to Tissaia de Vries, whose name I heard her mumble just now, but to this continent and possibly our whole world, just like the rectoress will be. So put your personal feelings aside, we can fight for Nilfgaard another day.”

That was all the explanation the elves had needed. An order was an order, and in examining the woman to scope out the degree of exhaustion she had subjected herself to, they had learned that the sorceress was, in fact, part elf. An elf always helped another elf in need, especially after the great cleansing that had taken place.

Yennefer was asleep for days on end, though the elves were not worried about that. They had read in their ancient healing tomes that, when an elf depletes their chaos completely to the point of using their own essence, they would often fall into a sort of healing sleep. What was worrisome, however, was her fever. Thanks to her human blood, Yennefer could not cope with the depletion as well as a pure-blooded elf could, so they had to bring the fever down.

They were sure that once the fever subsided, her delirium would soon stop too, as it was a side effect, and after that she’d probably be up and about again in a week, possibly. But it all remained to be seen, because for now Yennefer was still in a deep sleep, not responding to anything or anyone, and the fever would not let up.

At some point, the elves began to worry more about her, because if the fever truly didn’t let up she could die, after all. Elves were not immune to the depletion of Chaos, they could die too. It just usually took them longer than humans. But there hadn’t been any known cases like Yennefer’s. After the tenth day of her sleep, they began to wonder why she didn’t die, because the only reason an elf didn’t die despite serious harm was when they had a strong bond to someone.

It caused them to examine her further, and what they found genuinely surprised them because strictly speaking it should be impossible. Immediately alerting Filavandrel, he examined the peculiar thing himself, saying, “this is impossible and quite frankly immoral. Though in this case it might have saved her life, or still will.” After assessing the situation, he told the others that a shipment of herbs and an amulet had arrived.

The amulet was meant to help the sorceress battle the fever more effectively, and it did its job very well. After two days her temperature was back to what it should be and she breathed more deeply and easily. The elves were sure that she would make it at this point. All she had to do was recharge her reserves and, eventually, wake up. Being the stubborn woman she was, Yennefer took her sweet time with that, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter that plays after the whole series! Let me know what you think!


	11. Meltdowns and Temper Tantrums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which both of them are still separated, which leads to Tissaia being forced to commit to some breaking and entering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world of the Witcher nor its characters belong to me. No profit is made from this and no copyright infringement was intended.
> 
> So, here it is. Not what y'all have been waiting for, surely. Good things take time. Enjoy!

The incessant clitter of cicadas was causing Yennefer a headache before she even woke up properly. Though, to be completely fair, judging by the dryness of her throat, the oncoming headache could also be caused by dehydration. Reluctantly opening her eyes, she took in her surroundings.

She was lying in a rather uncomfortable makeshift need that stood in a cave. The sun shone outside and Yennefer could only imagine how hot it was, making her grateful for being inside the cool cave. At the opposite wall, she noticed a table filled with herbs, bottles and potion equipment, it almost looked like a laboratory. In Yennefer’s opinion, a laboratory shouldn’t have a place in something as primitive as a cave.

Finding a cup of water next to her bed, she picked it up and greedily drank from it, feeling the cool liquid soothing her parched throat. When the cup was empty, she looked at it in a daze before suddenly dropping it as though it burned her hand. Shooting upright, she mentally scolded herself for waking up in a strange environment and unquestioningly drinking from a cup that had conveniently been within reach.

Becoming aware of an unfamiliar weight around her neck, she looked down only to find an amulet hanging from her neck. It was made of rare black silver, with runes surrounding the garnet that was lined with clear quartz. It was quite beautiful, but Yennefer wondered what had transpired after the battle to warrant the necessity of such an expensive piece. Out of habit, her hand wandered a bit higher to her obsidian star, only to find that it was gone.

Just as she swung her legs out of her bed to search for her choker, two elves entered the cave. They looked at her apprehensively, and she eyed them daringly. Since her ascension, she had always worn the obsidian star on a velvet band, only ever taking it off before a bath, and she’d be dammed if she were to lose it and not even try to recover it.

“Ah, the sleeping beauty has finally woken,” the woman said sarcastically with a grin on her face. Looking her over, Yennefer quipped that she wasn’t her type. If at all possible, the elf’s grin grew even wider. The sorceress’ eyes widened comically when the other woman piped, “oh I know. You’re Tissaia’s girl, all hers, I presume.” Spluttering indignantly, Yennefer asked how the daft woman could ever possibly assume anything of the kind.

“Toruviel, enough,” the blond man interjected and raised his hands in a calming gesture. The pale woman huffed and stormed out of the cave, something she did so well it actually impressed the sorceress who had taken the distraction to compose herself. Now looking at the man, she inquired whether he had seen her necklace. He pointed at the table and the sorceress waited no second longer, instead she stormed to the desk, grabbing her star as soon as she had located it.

That was about all her legs seemed to be willing and able to, for as soon as he hand closed around the choker, they gave way. Sinking to the dusty ground as gracefully as possible, she simultaneously turned to the man and regarded him with a watchful eye. She was very aware of her weakness all of a sudden, and he had yet to prove himself as trustworthy.

Looking at her with a soft expression, the elf said, “please do let me introduce myself before helping you back to bed, I’m Filavandrel, you might know me as the king of elves, though I’d point out that I did not choose this title.” She had indeed heard of him and came to the conclusion to trust him for now. Taking the hand he offered her, she let him help her without commenting on the matter.

Once she settled into bed, choker firmly in her hand, he started his explanation, “first off, I feel like I should tell you that you’ve been asleep for seventeen days total. Your elven blood caused you to fall into a deep, healing sleep after you completely depleted your reserves at the battle of Sodden. Shortly after you had teleported away from the battlefield, we received word that you might be in Dol Blathana, and our friend Torque found you shortly after. The fever complicated your recovery, hence the amulet you’re wearing, which you’re welcome to keep if you’d like. Do you have any questions so far?”

Recalling the last moments she had been in Sodden, she realized there was no way she should’ve survived the level of depletion, even with her elven blood, she should be dead by now. Even after seventeen days of sleep, she still felt exhausted, so she cut back on the sarcasm because it would’ve cost her way too much energy. Looking up hesitantly, she asked him about how it was possible and thanked him for the amulet. For once, she could show herself to be grateful for something.

Turned out that, during her examination, the elves had noticed that she was bound to two people, which was highly unusual and had led them to believe that one of them shouldn’t be there. When Filavandrel asked about it, she said, “well… there’s this Witcher, Geralt, he made a wish and that Djinn bound our fates together, but that’s the only bond I had.” At that, the elf smiled gently at her, murmuring something about her believing something as long as she needed to.

“It’s an immoral bond,” the man said after a few moments of silence, explaining how elves were of the firm belief that two individuals should never be bound together if one of them weren’t willing to be. He called it freedom of choice. Yennefer had heard of the concept and had to say that, generally, she agreed with it.

She felt her eyes growing heavy again, but she needed to know one more thing. Looking up at Filavandrel, determination colouring her eyes, she asked, “what happened after I left Sodden?” At that, the elf stood a little straighter and he put on a neutral mask. Apparently, he thought his news wouldn’t be well received at all, and at that, Yennefer could feel anxiety rising in her chest.

“To be completely honest, I’m not privy to every detail. All I can tell you is that the Northern Armies arrived and defeated Nilfgaard. The remaining sorcerers were patched up as good as possible before being transferred to Ban Ard and Aretuza for further medical attention,” pausing for a second, an insecure look entered his face and he watched her closely while he continued, “they build a monument for the 14 fallen sorcerers and sorceresses, they engraved their names so that their heroics wouldn’t be forgotten.”

14? Yennefer frantically tried to count all the fallen she knew off, but only came to 12 at the most, and only if she counted all the mages that had been on the field in front of the keep. She began to shake, anxiety now in full force as she asked whose names had been engraved on the stones, her voice wavering dangerously. The sorceress couldn’t even quite fathom what had got her so nervous, it wasn’t like she had cared about anyone there, except for Triss and Sabrina. Toruviel had been way off, there was absolutely nothing for Tissaia in her heart.

At first, she breathed a sigh of relief when Filavandrel past the place where Tissaia’s name would’ve been alphabetical. Then, however, she realized that instead of Tissaia’s name, he had said Triss’, and that was impossible for her to comprehend. When she had left the keep, Triss had been in a lot of pain, sure, but it was only a burn, surely the young sorceress hadn’t died because of that? When the king went on to explain that not all bodies had been perfectly identifiable, she knew that she’d never believe Triss to be dead.

Assessing her state of exhaustion carefully, Filavandrel added, “now I know that you probably want to get back to sleep, but I have something to offer you. My best guess is that you want to rid yourself of the unnatural bond you have not chosen for yourself, and I know someone who can cut that bond, if you would like – “ not waiting for him to finish, Yennefer asked with the slightest hint of impatience, “when can we leave?” The elf chuckled at her eagerness to have that deed done and responded by saying that she should rest at least four more days.

To that, the sorceress only agreed when Filavandrel argued that they needed to procure horses first and that it was no easy task these days. When she had promised him to be patient for a few more days, he had left her to her own devices. Reluctantly admitting that he was right about the sleep thing, she gave in to her exhaustion yet again, hoping not to sleep for more than twelve hours this time.

* * *

Vengerberg was an impressive sight from afar and a beautiful city up close. Tissaia had always enjoyed being in Aedirn whenever the brotherhood sent her there, and it was good to be here again after half a century. Some of the houses had changed, been replaced by bigger ones or just renovated. She expected the general outline to still be the same than it had been, so she went on to find her way to the inn that Philippa had told her to go to.

The inside had a sombre mood to it, and the alcoves were built to give the customers as much privacy as they could get. A place that served the purpose of secret-keeping has always struck Tissaia as shady, though she would not complain in this case, she was meeting a Redanian spy, after all. When she reached the bar, the bulky owner grunted, “you de Vries?”

She only tilted her head noncommittedly, not entirely trusting of this whole situation. The stable boy had seemed nice enough when he promised to take good care of her horse, but this one seemed like he frequently committed crimes, no matter which ones. A big grin entered his face, revealing really bad teeth, and it only made him more unappealing than he already was.

“Well good, you’re expected in the backroom,” with a dirty hand he gestured to an even dirtier door to show her the way. Giving him the smallest of smiles she passed by the bar and entered the dingy backroom, immediately discovering a hooded figure cowering over their drink, sitting in the corner. The figure – a woman, as it turned out – looked up at her and nodded in greeting. Her dark skin indicated that her origin was not Aedirn or Redania, and her black eyes shone oddly in the dark.

“Come, Tissaia, take a seat. I’m Anna and we have a few things to talk about,” the spy said, effectively breaking the silence. Tissaia relaxed a little as she sat down, thinking that, if Philippa could trust the woman, then so could she. She noted that she couldn’t read her thoughts as she was met with a solid mental wall, so the woman could guard her mind and therefore keep everything confidential.

“I thought you’re only supposed to show me to Yennefer’s house?” Anna chuckled at that and took a sip from her drink. Seizing the rectoress up, she commented that she had expected the woman to have more patience. Tissaia pressed her lips together and looked down a second, hoping that she hadn’t seemed too desperate.

“But I get it,” the woman said gently, “you want to find your friend. There is, however, some information that I need to give to you first. Since Yennefer vanished, we had her house under constant surveillance. Alas, she herself did not appear at any point, but there was one individual who entered it, despite the extensive protective charms around it.” Anna looked at her expectantly, but when the rectoress showed no immediate reaction, she told her that the charms were almost unbreakable, but seemed to have let the person through without resistance.

“So you’re saying that person had a key?” Anna beamed at the fact that he had at least figured that out. And Anna nodded affirmatively when she theorized that the key would have to be something that Yennefer likely never parted with. Tissaia wondered what it was and cursed the fact that they hadn’t seen each other very often over the years. Recalling their encounters, the only constant she could recall was the choker she had gifted her, but she couldn’t imagine Yennefer actually giving it that purpose, or would she?

It was also the thing that helped her stay hidden, so there was no way she’d ever give it up voluntarily. She took a shot in the dark and asked if they were absolutely certain that it hadn’t been Yennefer who had been to the house. Anna nodded, murmuring, “positive. Yennefer has violet eyes which she is too proud of to cover just to visit her house. Also, the woman was too tall and had elven ears and golden hair.

Just as she wondered if that could’ve been Francesca, the spy put a rough sketch of a woman on the table, saying that it was the woman that had entered the house. It looked just like Francesca, even though the sketch showed neither the gold of her hair nor the azure blue of her eyes. Tissaia didn’t comment on it, though, if the spy was any good then a copy of the sketch had already been shown to Philippa, so she’d know.

Now her question would be why Francesca Findabair had something that belonged to Yennefer, because to her knowledge the two of them had spoken to one another exactly one time. The sorceress would not give the key to her home away till someone she had less of a relationship to than she had to Sabrina or Triss. So Francesca had at least seen her after the battle, that much was obvious. Tissaia still needed to figure out where that had been and where both of them were now, surely they weren't together though.

“So about those protective charms, do you think you could break through those,” the curiosity in Anna’s voice was overly apparent as she slightly leaned forward, her eyes still unreadable to Tissaia though she was sure a part of that expression was professional interest. She wanted to know how to break through a mage’s protection, though she was foolish if she honestly thought that Tissaia would indulge her after she had probably been denied the information by Philippa herself.

Deciding to be as unforthcoming as possible, she just mumbled, “with a little luck I won’t have to break anything.” Knowing when to quit, the spy just looked at her with narrowed eyes, trying to figure her out. But she wouldn’t reveal that she had her suspicions about the key, because if it really was the obsidian star, then Yennefer just might have overlooked a tiny detail.

“I see we have come to the end of this exchange of information, as one-sided as it may have been. Do you plan on letting me take a look around the house?” When Tissaia respectfully declined the inquiry, Anna just smiled, shrugged her shoulders and said it had been worth a try. The sorceress didn’t think that she had actually expected her to let the spy snoop around her “friends” home.

The sun had long since gone down when they parted ways. Frustration had set in upon the spy’s insistence she rest for the night before being taken to Yennefer’s house. She was convinced that she was perfectly fine to take her first look at Yennefer’s belongings this evening.

What Tissaia did ignore with an admirable consistency was the fact that she was still not entirely fine and being on the road for 16 days had not helped her recovery. What her body needed after the poisoning was rest, but what she gave it was too little food and too many hours in the saddle. Additionally, she had spent most nights camping because she had rather kept going than stay at some inn. Yet she stubbornly ignored the signs her body was sending her, telling herself that she was absolutely fine. That, however, didn’t stop her from falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

* * *

When she woke again late the next morning, Tissaia felt as though she had been trampled by a horde of wild horses. Begrudgingly she admitted to herself that maybe, just maybe, she had actually needed the rest the spy had forced upon her. Knowing fully well that the feeling she had now would not subside at any point of the day, she got ready and packed her things as she did not plan on returning to the inn.

Anna sat in one of the alcoves in the front room of the inn and waved the rectoress over as soon as she spotted her. She was in the corner furthest away from the entrance, and Tissaia guessed that it was a strategic place so she could monitor the people in the room without rousing suspicion. It was a clever tactic, Tissaia thought, though it could also be because she could not be snuck upon in this particular position. If that was the reason, then the spy was plain simply paranoid.

“Good morning, sleep well?” The woman was way too energetic for the rectoress’ taste, but she gave her a polite smile, thanking her for her concern. Almost as soon as she had sat down, the barkeep brought out breakfast, and she was surprised to see that it looked better than the rest the inn had to offer. Then again, it was only breakfast, Tissaia thought, and what could one do wrong when it came to that?

Aware of the fact that she had the whole day to canvas through Yennefer’s things – provided she got through the protective barrier as planned – she took her time, savouring the eggs and the tea that had been offered to her. Anna was watching her like a hawk all the while they sat there, and Tissaia began to wonder whether she was truly only a spy sent to inform her, or also her babysitter. If Philippa had deigned it necessary to send one after her, she would have to have a word with the other sorceress next time she saw her.

Deciding on being forward rather than subtle, she directly asked if that was the reason for her to be watched so closely. Anna just looked at her sheepishly, not used to being caught, giving Tissaia all the answer she needed. Rolling her eyes, she let her eyes wander the room, contemplating how she would call Philippa out for it.

She appreciated the young sorceress’ concern, she really did. Yet she thought herself capable of looking after herself. It certainly wasn’t the pace of a former apprentice to send people after their mentor to see if the said mentor was alright. No matter how sweet a gesture it could be considered to be.

A few minutes after she had emptied her teacup and gathered her thoughts, she turned to the woman and asked if she was ready to go. Beaming at her, Anna jumped up and bolted for the bar, intent on paying for them both before she got to drag the infamous rectoress of Aretuza through the streets of Vengerberg. Suppressing a chuckle, Tissaia followed her without commenting on her eager behaviour.

Luckily, the house in question wasn’t located too far from the inn she had spent the night in, and standing in front of it, Anna had to point it out to her. Otherwise, she would not have noticed it in her exhausted state, thanks to the disillusionment spell that had been cast over it. Tissaia guessed that the reason for that enchantment lay in Yennefer’s general hate for people. Or morons, as she liked to call them.

Telling Anna that she would not have to wait up for her if she succeeded in getting into the house, she stepped forward and pressed her right hand flat against the door. She felt Anna’s intense gaze on her, knowing fully well that the woman was trying to figure out what she was doing. Concentrating on the invisible barrier in front of her, she prayed to whatever higher power was willing to listen, praying for her theory to be right.

Hearing the tell-tale click of a door opening, she smiled to herself, feeling a sense of victory washing over her. Yennefer had indeed missed the little detail, or she hadn’t expected Tissaia to ever try and break into her house. Letting the door swing open, she threw one glance back at Anna, who was looking at her with an open mouth, clearly surprised that she was apparently just allowed to waltz into the house.

Matter of fact she wasn’t, at least not strictly speaking. But, as it turned out, the obsidian star was indeed the key to get through the barrier, which recognized its energy signature in order to open up. An objects energy signature could easily be manipulated, mostly through magical means. Yennefer was fully aware of the fact that her necklace hadn’t only been gifted to her by the rectoress, but also enchanted by the very same, meaning that the necklace’s energy signature was very similar to hers, even after years of serving Yennefer as a shield.

As she closed the door behind her, she let her gaze wander over the items that were tastefully placed in the entrance hall of the three-story building. From her vantage point, she could see into the living room as the door to it was open, as well as three closed doors. Those other doors probably led to a kitchen, the dining room and the basement.

Quickly deciding that the kitchen and dining room were least likely to give her any clues as to where the other sorceress might be, she strode into the living room. Upon further inspection of the room’s decoration, Tissaia became suspicious, thinking that maybe Yennefer had hired herself someone to help with the house. While she certainly had great taste, Tissaia somehow doubted that she had chosen everything herself and made it look so harmonizing and welcoming despite all the dark colours.

Shaking the irrelevant thoughts from her mind, she wandered over to one of the cabinets and, with only a moment's hesitation, opened it. It was a complete violation of privacy, but these were extenuating circumstances. Another way of finding her simply didn’t exist. Tissaia could’ve tried tracing her signature to where the portal had taken her, provided there had been one, but after all the time she had wasted in a coma and in bed, there was no way of ever finding any trace, if there ever was one to begin with.

There was nothing of use inside it anyway, not that she had expected to find the solution to her problem right away. Odds and ends were truly all she had expected to find in there, so she moved on to the cabinet standing next to a small enchantment table. This time she came face to face with enchantment equipment, several gemstones as well as dried herbs for smudge sticks. Carefully rummaging through the contents so as to not ruin the order in the cabinet, she soon found that here, too, there was nothing.

She went through the only other cabinet as well as the bookcase before admitting defeat and sitting down on one of the sofas standing in the middle of the room. If she was to find any clue as to where Yennefer was now, it clearly wouldn’t be on the ground floor of the house. But she also couldn’t just keep searching without a plan, so she contemplated which room was most likely to contain information she needed.

Eyeing the bookcase, she noticed that there were mainly books for pleasure reading in it. Furrowing her brows she stepped closer, knowing that those couldn’t be all of her books. The woman had searched for a way to cure her condition for over a decade, there was no way she only possessed books for light reading, and there were no scrolls either. An idea flashed through her head and she turned to look at the staircase.

There was a library somewhere in this house, there had to be, any self-respecting sorcerer had one. She rushed up the stairs, determined to find the room in question, for it seemed to be the most promising. Pausing on her way through the hallway, she noticed another open door that led to what seemed to be a laboratory.

Curiously stepping further into the room, she examined the contents of the room. The sorceress had all the things she could ever need for any kind of potion, and herbs were in pots all around the room. With interest she noticed the air and temperature change depending on where in the room she was. Yennefer had created micro-climate zones for the different herbs, Tissaia was actually impressed by that. Lazier sorcerers would simply put the herbs in the rooms where they fit best.

As impressive as it was, it wasn’t helping, so Tissaia canvased the library which was two doors down the hallway. She noted that it was a tad more chaotic than she would’ve expected, and that was saying something seeing as she had expected it from the queen of chaos herself. Several scrolls were scattered over the floor and on the three desks in the room, quite a few books had been left open on seemingly random pages.

At least that could lead her somewhere, Tissaia thought. The only reason for Yennefer to act so careless about her books could be her reading something and getting an idea which led her to open another book. Though that didn’t complain why she hadn’t put away any of them before coming to Aretuza. And, as she soon realized, most were not giving her hints on anything.

They would have, if she hadn’t already known about the sorceress’ problem with the djinn and the entangled strings of fate. Stupid Witcher, the rectoress didn’t like the man, which was remarkable as she hadn’t even met him. Though the White Wolf was famous enough that she might as well have. She would love to curse the man for doing that to her Yennefer, but she somewhat believed in karma so it would come back to bite him in the ass at some point.

As time wore on she was growing more and more frustrated. All she wanted was to find her but these books weren’t leading her anywhere. She read several entries on Loc Muinne, but upon further inspection of the room, she concluded that Yennefer had already raided the infamous ruined library of the former elven city with little useful results. Not that she expected anything more, it was called ruined for a reason.

There were mentions of the elven sages, but almost all of them were uncooperative, Yennefer knew that. Even those who tended to meddle in “mortal affairs” only did so for people they knew or for those who were able to give them something they wanted. That, the raven-haired woman knew too, or else she wouldn’t have come to her seeking for help in the first place. Tissaia had promised to take her to a sage, so she sincerely doubted that Yennefer had spontaneously decided to search for him on her own.

A rather unreliable looking book told of a myth surrounding Toussaint, but any idiot could’ve seen that there it was just that, a myth. A really bad one, at that. And seeing as Yennefer had at least one enemy at the court of Toussaint, the rectoress didn’t see her running headfirst into danger.

Casting yet another scroll aside with a frustrated huff, she put her hands on her hips and looked around yet again. This didn’t get her anywhere, and that made her feel more anxious than she cared to admit. As she brushed past one of the desks, she heard a book fall to the ground with a dull thud, but she couldn’t be bothered to pick it back up. Yennefer wouldn’t come home anytime soon.

The building frustration wore away on her self-control, chaos itching to break out after having been repressed for so long. Tissaia needed to keep a cool head, losing control wouldn’t help anyone, least of all her. She exited the room and faced the bitter truth that she had to breach the other woman’s privacy even further than she’d like to, provided she actually kept any form of diaries.

Tentatively she opened the remaining doors in the house and slowly strode into the master bedroom. Everything about this room was so intimately Yennefer that she was almost able to feel her presence. The king-sized bed was in complete disarray and she guessed that the young sorceress hadn’t bothered making it because she hadn’t assumed to be gone so long. Or for someone else to come into the room before she could fix it.

Temporarily losing herself, the rectoress sat down and took in the sight of the wrinkled, dark red silken sheets and the scattered pillows. It amazed her that the smell of lilac and gooseberries still clung to the fabric. Just as she was about to grab one of the pillows, she shook her head, dispelling whatever had come over her and stood up again. This was decidedly not what she was here for.

The rectoress all but tore the room apart, desperately looking for anything diary related. There was nothing on or in the nightstands, or the dresser. As she searched the walk-in closet, she became frenzied. Why couldn’t Yennefer keep a diary, Tissaia thought desperately before remembering that the woman wasn’t emotionally attached to anything.

She felt her Chaos starting to crackle around her when she neared the end of her search. Tissaia had nothing to go on, no lead to follow. The continent was vast and she had no idea where to search, she was going crazy. Falling to her knees and feeling a slight breeze blowing around her, she whispered, “no… no!”

Alas, it was too late. There was a minor explosion coming from Tissaia’s energy source, something she regretted deeply. The windows burst and the drapes sounded like they ripped straight from the bed frame, making Tissaia wince. With the damage already done, the rectoress took her sweet time reigning her Chaos back in. Truth be told she couldn’t be bothered to control anything about her, and so she let hopelessness wash over her.

When she had calmed down enough to stop the magic, she got back up and staggered over to the bed with a now broken frame, goose-feathers floating in the air. The amount of Chaos she had unwillingly spent was infinitesimal, and yet it had powered her exhaustion to a new level. Knowing that she wouldn’t find anything in this house, she gave up her search once and for all, instead crawling under the sheets of Yennefer’s bed, breathing in the soothing scent.

Her horse was fine at the inn’s stable, and she was still convinced that Yennefer was alive somewhere. She had time, a lot of it, though not an infinite amount. As much as she needed to figure out how to find the raven-haired woman – and soon – she needed rest first. Under no obligation to actually leave the house again and in the knowledge that nobody else was able to get in despite the broken windows, she adjusted the pillows and let sleep claim her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad news for you: I'm taking a break next week. Thanks to final exams I'm finally stressed enough that I need the time to relax so I don't get a heart attack or something. Feel free to shout at me in the comments for that.  
> Hope you enjoyed this one regardless!


	12. Waning Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tissaia has to leave Yennefer's bed again and face the world whereas Yennefer herself has a little family reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just leave this for you here, hope you don't mind.  
> Disclaimer: Neither the world of the Witcher nor its characters belong to me. No profit is made from this and no copyright infringement was intended.

The incident in Vengerberg had been five days ago, and Tissaia still shuddered in embarrassment every time she thought back to it. Losing control in itself was unacceptable for a woman of her standing, yet the reaction of the people on the street might have been worse, even. The entire night she had slept in Yennefer’s bed, surrounding herself with the heavenly scent of lilac and gooseberries.

Unfortunately, she had to leave the house at some point, and that was a reality she faced in the morning. As well-rested as she felt after the dreamless bout of sleep, she had dreaded it. There was no backdoor which she could’ve snuck out without the neighbours noticing her, so the front door was the only option.

Several people stared at her when she walked out the door, looking her up and down with thinly veiled distaste. Two women turned to each other and whispered about how Tissaia coming out of that building after the explosion meant she caused it. “Clearly mental, that one. More so than the owner, even, best stay out of her way,” one of them had said about her.

The rectoress couldn’t blame them for thinking that at all. Having seen her reflection in the mirror she was quite aware that her dress was askew, as was her hair. In the house she tried to fix it as well as possible but had soon given up.

The people in the bakery had looked at her with a similar amount of hesitation, though they refrained from commenting on her general appearance in her presence. The owner even gave her a discount in the provisions she bought for the road, something the vegetable peddler didn’t do, not that she had expected it.

Vurmiel, the stable hand, was kind enough to ready her horse. The mare looked well-rested and generally in a good mood, which was a relief because Tissaia had not been in the state of mind to deal with an unwilling horse. After giving her mare a treat she had turned to Vurmiel, gave him her thanks as well as a tip for his work before mounting the horse and riding away.

After careful deliberation, the rectoress had decided to travel north towards the Blue Mountains. As much as she loathed the thought of it, she had to go look for the Witcher, Geralt. He was still bound to Yennefer, so there was a good chance that she was with him or that he at least had some clue as to where she was.

Winter was upon them, and so Tissaia had decided to try her luck and find Kaer Morhen instead of aimlessly wandering the Continent in search for a man. She had been at Kaer Morhen, the fortress of Witchers located in a valley of the Blue Mountains near the spring of the river Gwenllech, though that visit had been a long time ago.

She was rather grateful that Vesimir, one of the oldest Witchers, had shown her the hidden way into the valley. Many knew that the Witchers of the School of the Wolf spent their winters at the keep if possible, but almost nobody knew the exact way. Being let in on such a well-guarded secret was an honour. Now she only had to find it again.

By now she was two days outside of Vergen, thanks to her swift horse. Is she continued her way with the current speed, she might make it to Kaer Morhen in a little more than three weeks, though she was reluctant to believe that. In her desperation, Tissaia managed an impossible amount of miles per day and she only stopped to rest or to get provisions if absolutely necessary. So far, it had happened twice that she had to forage her surroundings for edible berries.

The rectoress would never admit it out loud, but the poor supply of nourishment and constant use of chaos to keep her horse fed as well as a campfire burning was wearing her down. Her Chaos reserves were recovering at an alarmingly slow rate and Tissaia had to begrudgingly admit to herself that she would need to stop at Ard Carraigh for a few days to recuperate.

Shivering, Tissaia looked around. Exhaustion dulled her senses but she could swear she heard an unnatural rustling in the bushes close to her camp now and again. Noting that her mare was still calmly dozing by the fire, she blamed imagination for the noise. She was in the forest by the river Dyfne south of Vergen, the only other creatures here were stags or maybe squirrels. There was nothing remotely dangerous close to her.

The fire slowly lost its original intensity and Tissaia could do nothing but pull her coat tighter around her. It wasn't particularly cold tonight, but her clothes had gotten soaked when she waded through the river. For some reason, the bridge had been burned down, so there hadn't been any other way without losing time.

The sorceress tried to repress a cough but failed miserably. It’s what was to be expected after her day and spending the nights under the stars certainly didn’t help. And yet she ignored it, telling herself she had no time to deal with a minor cough. She would just have to deal with it until it went away while hoping it wouldn’t get any worse, seeing as that would slow her down considerably.

The sun would rise again in approximately four hours, and that's when she would have to get moving again. There was no time to waste, after all. Heaving a deep sigh, she laid down on her camp bed and closed her eyes, ignoring the forest sounds around her as she waited for sleep to claim her.

* * *

The village outside Vengerberg was still as quaint as it had been the last time Yennefer had visited it. Sitting on the horse Filavandrel had gotten her for their journey, she let her eyes wander and immediately spotted the old house and pigpen that had once been her home. Acting on impulse, she got off her horse and took a few steps towards it and the old woman currently feeding the pigs.

Filavandrel, not knowledgeable enough to know what’s going on, displayed a mixture of delight and sarcasm. He asked if she had finally come to her senses and accepted that she needed more rest. She rolled her eyes at being called out yet again.

Five days past, Yennefer had put her foot down and declared that she would be riding out to find Tissaia and the elven sage on her own since the elven king was clearly refusing to be of any further help. The elf had protested, of course, saying that the sorceress needed rest and was in no way ready for such a strenuous journey. Yennefer had laughed at that and had told the man to stop patronising her, insisting that she was fine.

She was, however, not fine. Yet her pride didn’t allow her to admit that, and she had also felt as though she’d go mad if she stayed in the caves doing nothing any longer. At no point of her life had she been idle for this long a period, and the nervous energy that built up over time was finally becoming unbearable.

Reluctantly, the elf had agreed to come with her. As it turned out, he had anticipated her to grow bored sooner or later and had his elves get them horses and supplies. They travelled in a group of four, which was big enough a group to guarantee a certain degree of safety, but not too big so as to not attract any unwanted attention. A drawback for Yennefer was Filavandrel constantly nagging her, saying they should slow down. He called her out, all the time, just like he had now. Yennefer’s only wish would’ve been for him to not use her name.

Alas, he had, and in a loud enough voice to get the old woman’s attention. She straightened up and turned to the sorceress, an expression of bafflement and hope on her face. A moment later, the woman dropped the bucket she had been holding, her face lighting up as she excitedly waddled towards the raven-haired woman, who smiled back sheepishly, clearly feeling uncomfortable in the whole situation she suddenly found herself in.

“Yenna! Sister dear, it’s been years, where have you been? Oh I’m so glad after all the rumours I’ve heard, they say you’ve gotten yourself killed at that blasted battle at Sodden... who are your friends?” Dora, her youngest sister, had not lost any of her excitability, Yennefer realized as she was assaulted with a wave of words while also being enveloped in a warm hug. Out of all her family, Dora had always been closest to her. They were polar opposites, really, seeing as everyone had always hated Yennefer but absolutely adored her youngest sister with her blonde locks and doe-brown eyes.

Half-heartedly she turned around and introduced the elves who had gotten down from their horses and approached the two women with curiosity. True to her nature, Dora invited the travelling companions into her home. She might be a gossip, but she didn’t have a single prejudiced or cruel bone in her body. After taking care of their horses they all got comfortable in the cottage that was now Dora's, and they began to talk. Yennefer had always disliked gossip, but this evening she would be glad her sister paid attention to them.

Dora wanted to know whether she had been to her house, and when Yennefer asked her why, her sister hesitantly replied, “well, dear, you see, it’s apparently been broken into. Folk say it was a crazy witch. I went there, you know, to check. They said I couldn’t get in because of some stupid ward or something, but I did, I’m telling you. And folk are right, sister dearest, your kitchen alone is proof enough, it’s a complete mess.” Dora's eyes were wide as she watched ford Yennefer’s reaction as though she expected her to react badly. For someone who lived on a farm with little money, the kitchen and its contents were probably holy, Yennefer thought.

A look of utter confusion entered her sister's face when the sorceress stated that the kitchen had already been a mess when she’d left. When she inquired whether she was sure, Yennefer said, “oh yes, quite sure. The kitchen always is a mess, not to worry. So I’m assuming that the rumours were false.” At that, Dora looked at her uncomfortably before turning her gaze away.

Narrowing her eyes, Yennefer demanded to know what had happened. Giving her a bashful smile, Dora responded, “see, there definitely was a break-in –“ “impossible,” Yennefer scathingly said, interrupting her sister so violently she caused her to jump. “My barriers don’t let anyone but family through, and you’re the only one who counts into that, and if people told you you won’t be able to get in, that barrier has stopped them. If someone had broken in the barrier would be gone,” Yennefer didn’t rightly know why she explained it to someone who didn’t understand it.

Dora, still familiar with her antics, waited patiently until the wild look in her eyes was gone. Then, she calmly asked the sorceress how she wanted to explain that all the windows in her bedroom were broken, the glass still lying outside the house. Baffled, Yennefer looked at her, trying to make sense of it all. Her protective spells could only be passed if someone was related to her or if they had her obsidian star as the barrier was attuned to its signature.

Slightly leaning forward, she asked her sister to tell her about the rumours she’d heard. Beaming at the chance to pass gossip on to her sister, she launched into an extensive recount, “I will spare you the insults to your person because most of them are untrue anyway so here’s how I heard of everything: At first, one of the peddlers at the city market recognized me and asked, ‘hey, aren’t you the sister of the sorceress whose house was broken into?’ Naturally, I told him that I didn’t know what he was talking about. My interest was picked so I went to your house, finding glass in front of it and looked up to the upper windows and they were broken so that wasn’t a good sign. When I approached the door this nice Lady with rather dark skin showed up warning me about the barrier.”

Yennefer gently interrupted her, wanting to know who the woman was and why she had conveniently been around her hose. Unfortunately, Dora had been too nice to find that out, making it obvious why the woman was a farmer. She did tell the sorceress that she had still been there when she’d left some time later, though. That was enough information for Yennefer to assume that she had been a spy, most likely Philippa’s.

Dora continued by telling her how she got into the house and what she had found inside it. Yennefer was quick to dismiss her sister yet again, but she was stopped by the argument that Yennefer had always smelled of Lilac and Gooseberries, not of Sandalwood and Oakmoss. Recognizing the description of that scent as something she herself was actually deeply familiar with, she paused for a second before asking Dora to tell her all she knew about the crazy witch that had reportedly broken into her home.

Insisting that she had been about to get to that, Dora explained, “word on the street is it was a sorceress, based on the fine, petrol dress she was wearing and her composure – you know, most would say sorceresses are arrogant but I think you’re just proud, as you should be. However, folk say that she must be insane, or that she fell from graze or something pompous like that, because of the way her dress looked like. Frayed at the edges, rumours have it. Some of your neighbours described her to me as best as they could. They are sure she is rather short and has brown hair and light eyes, though after the glass on the upper floor burst and with her cold demeanour, nobody was brave enough to look her in the eyes. Apparently, she was really thin and looked tired, though, poor thing. I wonder who she was, do you reckon she needed help?”

“Tissaia de Vries, and she didn’t need help, Dora, she wants to help me,” she answered her sister’s question as she got up and started pacing. As relieved as she felt at hearing that the woman was more or less alright, it irked her that she had been at her house. The more pressing question for her, however, was how she had gotten in.

Muttering that she needed some fresh air, she headed outside. The afternoon sun shone down harshly, and Yennefer sought shelter under an oak tree close to the house. Plopping down unceremoniously, she started to think about what weakness her barrier had. The rectoress was in no way related to her so that wasn’t an option.

She fiddled with the obsidian star for a while before stopping suddenly, her eyes widening in realization. Taking off her necklace, she dangled it in front of her, gazing at it with an incredulous expression as she tuned into its energy signature. The sorceress had always known that the choker was enchanted but she had never thought about it further.

Upon further reflection, her borderline obsession with Tissaia now made a lot more sense. She had been the one to enchant her star before giving it to her, and Yennefer cursed herself for not noticing earlier that there was a substantial amount of Tissaia’s own chaos in that necklace. All these years she had felt the rectoress’ presence despite knowing that she was nowhere close to her and it had always driven her mad. It had always felt like the woman was constantly around her, always just out of reach for her.

But she hadn’t been, all she had felt was her necklace. And since her protective spells were attuned to that very trinket, she came to the conclusion that the barrier must’ve let her through without resistance because the energy signature was basically the same. Sure, the choker had adapted to her chaos over the years of usage to block any tracking, but the core was still the same.

Thinking about it, she didn’t actually mind that the sorceress had apparently spent the night if the rumours were to be believed. She actually felt kind of crestfallen at the thought of having missed the rectoress. Though it couldn’t have been long ago, so they could probably catch up to her. The woman still owed her one meeting with a sage, after all.

Having made up her mind, she returned to the house, where Dora was currently having a pleasant conversation with Filavandrel while the other two elves had sat down in a corner, playing a round of dice poker. That game she would never understand, much less like, though she had to admit that watching it had a cathartic influence.

Displaying an unusual amount of patience as she had already resigned herself to the fact that they’d probably stay the night, she waited for the conversation between Dora and Filavandrel to fizzle out naturally before turning to the elf, saying that they needed to talk. He looked at her in unease when she explained to him that she wanted to look for Tissaia before going to the sage. Based on her sister’s recount, the woman had left Vengerberg two days past, so she couldn’t have gotten very far.

“Yennefer, please consider our predicament,” he said cautiously, not wanting to set the woman off, “you might be alright, but you’re still a mile away from being perfectly okay. We have no idea where the rectoress went, for all we know she went back to Aretuza. We don’t have time to go out and search for her.” She considered his words for a moment before calmly replying that this was not up for debate. Dora piped in, saying that she had heard the woman was headed north, making Yennefer’s point that she was decidedly not returning to the school. She would find Tissaia, no matter what.

Heaving a sigh, Filavandrel argued, “why? Why do you want to chase after a woman you hate? Why trust her when your relationship is so complicated?” Yennefer blinked at that, not finding words immediately. Anger rose deep within her at the fact that the elven king dared question the rectoress’ ’intentions. It was not his place, he didn’t even know her. In fact, she doubted he had ever met her.

“Don’t question me, king,” she practically spits his title at his feet, “I don’t hate her. No matter where you got that information, it is outdated, even if I don’t make a big deal out of it. Tissaia might have her faults, but so do we all, and I trust her despite our history. Though I’ll have you know that our history is predominantly to be blamed on me because she is one of the only people who haven’t betrayed or hurt me. Before the battle, she promised she’d help me find the sage that could help me. So yes, I trust her with my life, and... why are you looking at me that way?” while she had talked herself into a blind rage, the man in front of her had begun to smirk, smugness and mischief sparkling in his eyes. Yennefer felt like she had walked straight into a trap.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he shrugged and turned his gaze out the small window, smile still firmly in place. Narrowing her eyes, Yennefer studied the elf's features, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Pure blooded elves sometimes had a natural shield protecting them from people who tried to invade their thoughts. When he didn’t show any emotion she could read, she mused about trusting him, questioning which motives he could have for helping her since he never did explain them to her. So why trust a perfect stranger over the rectoress?

Filavandrel snapped his head back to look at her, his face darkening considerably. Not sure if she had insulted him or the whole elven race, she shut her mouth immediately. Cursing herself for not paying closer attention to Tissaia when she had tried to teach them about advanced diplomatic behaviour, she drew up her shoulders slightly and etched to the edge of her seat. He reigned in his emotions and went back to a rather neutral look on his face, though he visibly took a deep breath to calm himself. The king was clearly frustrated and it made the sorceress wonder whether this would’ve been what she could have seen with Tissaia if the woman had had just a little less self-control.

“It is against sacred and ancient elven law to bind two people’s fates together if one is unwilling. Unlike humans, with their arranged marriages and the idea that women are property, we actually believe in the equality between all beings. So while we didn’t break the law, our morals forbid us from sitting idly by and watch as you struggle to untangle the mess the djinn made on behalf of Gwynbleidd. It would be an atrocity, so I have no reason to lead you anywhere but where you need to be, but if you’re so hellbent on it then fine, we’ll help you look for her,” he murmured quietly, showing how composed he was.

Yennefer hadn’t expected him to be this forthcoming with the truth and found herself taken aback. Now, she had a reason to trust him, which was a new sensation and she felt unsure if she really should. But that was secondary since he had agreed to let her go after Tissaia, though the reason for her suddenly caring so much escaped her completely.

They were interrupted by Dora, who had come to tell them that lunch was ready and they were free to join. Thanking her, the two of them got to their feet and followed her to the table in the dining room. Though it was more of a dining and sitting room, strictly speaking. The house was smaller than Yennefer remembered it from her childhood, though it still had only three rooms. The kitchen, which was also the entrance and the room Dora had been in until now, the bedroom one at the end of the house and the dining room, which was were Filavandrel and Yennefer had spoken quietly.

The five of them ate in silence, the other two elves didn’t even look up once, though they showed gratitude at being given a free meal. Looking around, Yennefer realized how little her sister actually possessed. Not commenting on it, she inquired where Dora’s children were, only to hear that her eldest son was busy taking care of his own wife and children and the youngest son spent his time in several inns at the city, trying his luck as a bard. If he was still as bad as he was as a child, Yennefer thought, he was bound to come back at some point.

The only one left was the farmer’s daughter, but she was at the market, getting some things her mother needed. She was the most promising child and, judging by the current situation, the most likely to take over the farm. Cynthia had always been like her mother, so the sorceress was quite fond of her, making her a tad disappointed at the prospect that she’d not see her this time. With a war going on and a sorceress’ lifestyle, she didn’t know if it wouldn’t have been her last opportunity.

Seemingly sensing her thoughts, Filavandrel leaned over to her, offering to stay in the village for the night. When she nodded, he clapped delightedly and turned to her sister, asking her for recommendations to spend the night. She waved him off, saying that they still had spare beds from her deceased siblings for them to stay in.

The elven king thanked her exuberantly and turned back to his food. When he was finished, he looked at one of the elves with a meaningful expression and left the room. Eyeing him carefully, Yennefer decided to focus on her sister and let it go. She was not a family person, and yet the thought of her sister one day being gone from her life felt strange, so she might as well make the best of the situation.

The other elf followed him out of the room and she couldn’t help but wonder what they might have to talk about. Before she could follow them, however, Dora started another conversation with her, inquiring about the news of the world. And since she hadn’t seen her little sister in almost ten years, there was much she had to tell her. No doubt she’d have to spend even more time on explaining what she had said as her sister had not had the luxury of being educated by a competent teacher such as Tissaia. Her general knowledge was, therefore, lacking at best, and Yennefer knew she wouldn’t be able to change that anymore.

Sometime later, Filavandrel returned to the table, though the other elf remained unseen. Giving him a questioning look, he explained that the other had to travel back today to bring news to Dol Blathana before re-joining them in a few days. He acted evasive though, with his eyes never truly meeting Yennefer’s. She didn’t truly care about whether he lied or not, as the thing he deemed necessary to hide couldn’t possibly be of any importance to her.

While Dora took care of the dishes, Yennefer asked the elf what the plans for the following day were. He explained, “well, after you had a restful day with your family, we’re going to do what you want and look for Tissaia. Dora mentioned she went north, do you have any idea where she could be headed?” The sorceress shook her head because she genuinely had no idea and could only guess that she might plan on going to Ban Ard. Filavandrel dismissed it, saying that there was no reason for her to go there.

He ventured a guess, saying that she might make for the Witcher school, thinking she could be there with Gwynbleidd. Arguing that they could try to catch up to her, he pointed out that she would most likely make for Ard Carraigh next, which was the capital of Kaedwen, Sabrina’s kingdom.

Briefly, she wondered how the blonde sorceress was doing, provided she had survived the rest of the battle. Feeling guilty about just leaving her at the bottom of the watchtower, she considered sending her a message before concluding that that might be too risky. She had no way of knowing who’d get the message and who currently wanted to see her dead.

Turning her attention back to Filavandrel, she heard him say, “in conclusion, we will head north, taking the footpath outside the city as it is a safer way of travel, and quicker as well. Does that sound agreeable?” She nodded, forcing a slight smile onto her face. Anything to make progress, she thought. With the issue resolved, they went back to comfortable silence as Filavandrel yet again gazed out the window. Yennefer wondered what could be that interesting outside the hut in a tiny village, yet she did not dwell on it.

Soon enough they were joined by Cynthia, who dropped her basket to rush towards Yennefer, much like her mother would’ve had, were she younger. And just like that, the sorceress found herself in the middle of an interrogation, with Cynthia asking all the questions. Had it been anyone else, the woman would’ve simply stood up and left, but she humoured the other, aware that she was longing for a sense of adventure as she was bound to the farm.

She regaled her niece with stories all afternoon long, and after dinner too. Dora just chuckled at her daughter’s antics, not finding it in her to chastise the girl, telling her to leave her poor aunt alone. The farmer saw the exhaustion in her sister’s face, saw how much weight she had lost compared to the last time she’d seen her. Though Dora simply chalked it up to the war that was going on. These were stressful times, but Yennefer would be alright.

The world outside had long since gone dark, cicadas sounding even this close to the city walls. Getting ready for bed, the sorceress wondered how many more questions her niece might’ve posed, had Filavandrel not stepped in, pointing out that they’d have to leave early in the morning. Cynthia had looked almost sad, though she refrained from arguing with anyone. Yennefer, though, could see the hope in her eyes. Hope that, maybe, someday, she would get to ask more questions, and it was a hope that they shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that... also, thank you to everyone who wished me good luck on my exams!


	13. Unexpected Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tissaia nearly kills herself (because she completely ignores any voice of reason there may be) and Yennefer continues her journey with the elves, where she learns that Filavandrel is not at all fond of Philippa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own neither the world of the Witcher nor the characters, no money is made from this and no copyright infringement was intended.

Not even five minutes on the market and Tissaia was already the centre of attention. Not because she had done anything, or because of the way she looked, because if she looked the way she felt then at least people had a reason to look. It was, however, not her fault that people were staring at her. Not at all.

“By everything holy, Tissaia, you can’t just disappear for over a week without telling my… associates where you are going, I’ve been worried sick about you!” Shocked, the rectoress had turned around to face the person who’d had the audacity to publicly call her out like that. She knew the voice, and yet she didn’t believe it when Philippa strode towards her.

“And yet you seem to have found me just fine,” the rectoress replied coldly. The other woman grinned mischievously and came to a halt in front of her. Looking her up and down, she said in a disapproving tone, “my, my, rectoress, one could think you just escaped a dungeon after four weeks of starvation. Have you been living off of mushrooms and berries?”

When Tissaia didn’t answer and instead looked away in embarrassment, all traces of a grin vanished from the sorceress’ face and she asked Tissaia to please tell her she was joking. There was a moment of awkward silence before the Redanian sorceress grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into an inn.

Taking in her new surroundings, the rectoress staggered after the brunette into a private room. Criticising the state of the room, she inquired when the woman’s standards had fallen so far. Philippa chuckled and argued that the owners were less likely to snitch on people because they tended not to care. Tissaia, on the other hand, was convinced that it was more about the fact that nobody would expect a sorceress to voluntarily stay in a place like this.

“You don’t really expect me to just let you continue your way in the state you’re in, do you?” She had asked the straightforward question in a soft voice. That, however, didn’t stop Tissaia from biting back how she had no way of stopping her as she was an arch mistress. Philippa raised an eyebrow to express her doubts while seizing Tissaia up yet again, but she didn’t comment on it.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, since Philippa had taken the only chair available, she asked if she had any news on Yennefer. When she only hesitantly replied that she hadn’t been at her house, the rectoress just accepted that she wouldn’t get a straightforward answer out of Redania’s court mage. She groaned when the woman instead told her that she should rest. Knowing that she only meant well, the rectoress tried to keep the venom out of her voice as she said, “not happening.”

Heaving a sigh, Philippa got up and sauntered to the door. Turning around once more, she considered the woman sitting on the bed in front of her. With the roll of her eyes, she said, “look, I’d really rather you rest. But seeing as that’s not happening, I might as well let you know because, believe it or not, I can understand the general situation you’re in: Your girl was at her sister’s house near Vengerberg two days past. She had three elves with her, one of which left to go north, my… sources tell me that’s where they are headed but I don’t know where they are wanting to go. If you want to express your gratitude for the information I so graciously gave to you, then do me a solid and don’t die out there.”

Before Tissaia could say anything to that, the sorceress was gone.

* * *

A few hours later, the rectoress was inside the forest just south of Vergen again. It hadn’t taken her long to get back to her horse at the market after Philippa had left. She had quickly stocked up on provisions for herself and the horse before leaving the city the same way she had come.

On her way, the weather had taken a turn for worse and it had started to rain. With her Chaos reserves still depleted, she had been forced to just endure it. If Yennefer had truly travelled north for the past day or two, then she was close.

It also meant that Yennefer truly was alive and even well enough to travel. As great as that news were, Tissaia still needed to find her, make sure she’d be okay. And also fulfil her promise if that’s what the sorceress wanted.

And that’s why she found herself in the middle of the forest again, with her clothes drenched through, no less. Her cough was getting worse, she thought as she fed her horse. There was no campfire this time, seeing as she hadn’t been able to find dry wood to make one.

Curling up into a ball, she tried to ignore the cold that was slowly but surely seeping into her bones, making her shiver. She needed to get some sleep, and she could only hope that, by the time she woke up, the rain would’ve let up. It was not easy, seeing as her shivers and coughing fits prevented her from finding any rest. At some point, though, she drifted off into a restless sleep as exhaustion finally won out over the cold.

Sleep didn’t last for long, however, as she was woken up again by voices all too soon. Tissaia was too dazed to realize what was going on, let alone react, and before she knew it, she was bound and carelessly thrown over the back of her horse. Her attackers were communicating in elder speech, and after catching a glimpse at their appearance, the rectoress was certain that they were Scoia’tael.

There were about six elves taking her hostage, and Tissaia knew better than to sign her own death warrant. She knew she wasn’t near strong enough to best even two of them, and she really didn’t think she could take any of them in her current state. Though Scoia’tael weren’t known to show mercy or take prisoners, so naturally, she was a bit scared of finding out what the meaning of this was. Whatever the reason, Tissaia couldn’t imagine it to be any good for her. If only she had listened to Philippa and rested for one night at the inn, then she surely wouldn’t be in this situation.

As she summed up her situation, she couldn’t help but feel entirely hopeless. The rectoress was sick, as her incessant cough indicated, and she was freezing cold. And if that wasn’t enough, she currently was held captive by a group of elves with no explanation whatsoever. She was in no condition to do anything about her predicament, and even though her current position on her horse was far from ideal, she gave into exhaustion and fell unconscious.

* * *

They had made astoundingly much progress for two days of riding. It could have been more had Filavandrel not insisted on resting early to dry their clothes after they’d passed the Dyfne. Yennefer was ready to admit that her riding trousers were soaked after wading through the water next to the destroyed bridge.

And so the sorceress found herself lying on a comfortable blanket, watching the dark clouds north of them. By the looks of it, the earth below those clouds are currently getting a lot of rain and Yennefer was glad those pesky clouds were moving away from them. She decidedly did not want to find out how slow the king would have them travel with the constant downpour.

Looking away, she wondered whether Tissaia was affected by that storm. She hadn’t dared to ask yet, but she was sure that there were elves in this forest that were under Filavandrel’s command, or at least listening to him. She thought so because their camp had been suspiciously well equipped when the king had chosen the location. They’d know just about everything that happened in this damned forest.

Twigs snapped somewhere close to the camp, and Yennefer turned her head just in time to see a graceful figure emerge from the shadows. Faintly recognizing the person’s frame, the sorceress shot up and watched them attentively. Soon enough the light of their fire illuminated the woman and her companions relaxed again. She still couldn’t believe her eyes and she let out an incredulous, “Francesca?”

Nothing seemed to be the way it should be, or at least had been, Yennefer thought. As far as she knew, members of the chapter preferred to stay away from elves in an attempt of not making political matters with Cintra worse. It dawned on the sorceress that the notion of Francesca not having any ties to elves was ridiculous, seeing as the woman was a pure-blooded elf herself. Scolding herself for forgetting that, she slowly got up and approached her, not sure on which level of familiarity they truly were as they’d never kept regular contact with one another.

The member of the Chapter turned to look at her and gave her a radiant smile. Yennefer’s breath hitched and she was suddenly reminded of the fact that Francesca was seen as the most beautiful woman currently walking the Continent. Though the raven-haired woman was reluctant to say she was the most beautiful. She couldn’t say why that was, since the woman was quite obviously breath-taking, but something was missing.

In her usual melodic voice, the beautiful woman said, “Yennefer, how nice to see you on your feet again! You had everyone quite worried when it took you so long to wake up. I see Filavandrel has given you back your choker.” Taken off guard by that last comment, the young sorceress covered the obsidian star with her hand, defensively asking what she meant.

She had a hard time containing her anger when she was told that the elf had taken it from her to enter her house in Vengerberg as it had been the only way in for her. When asked why she would need to break into her house in the first place, Francesca explained, “well I had to lure Tissaia to Aedirn somehow, didn’t I? And with Philippa’s spies placed by your house, it was only a matter of time until she’d come. Of course, I had to stay in for a while, make me more suspicious. That also gave me the chance to look around, make sure you don’t have anything lying around that would make her move south or west while looking for you.”

Yennefer looked at her incredulously, not daring to speak out of fear she might anger the woman. Francesca Findabair was the last person she wanted to piss off right now, seeing as she apparently was rather close with Filavandrel. When the young woman just glared at her, the elf sighed and further explained that time was of the essence and that they needed to get Yen to the sage as soon as possible.

“We feared you might want to find Tissaia, and you obviously do. So we gently nudged her onto the path we needed her on in order to get to the Kestrel mountains, because that’s where the sage is, do you understand?” Truth be told, Yennefer didn’t. She didn’t understand why Francesca was suddenly so concerned about her seeing a sage. She also didn’t understand why she had expected her to want Tissaia with her when they got there. The woman might’ve been right in guessing so, but that didn’t mean that Yennefer understood her reasoning behind any of this.

“Why send her on a wild goose chase, then? Why not simply write her a letter?” At that, the woman in front of her smiled faintly. She nodded at Filavandrel, who had joined them and greeted the woman, before replying, “a letter? My dear, the word is that Philippa was called in to aid in Tissaia’s recovery, and that owl is a nosy little beast. Any letter the rectoress may have received in the last weeks would’ve gone directly through that Redanian spy, and letting Philippa in on our business? I shan’t think so, dear.” Judging by the way Filavandrel shook his head disapprovingly, Yennefer guessed that he didn’t like the woman either.

Which led to her asking herself what Philippa had done to deserve the elves’ dislike. Redania hadn’t always been kind to elves, true, but that had, strictly speaking, nothing to do with Philippa. She couldn’t argue with the fact that the black-eyed woman was very nosy indeed, more so than was good for her, probably.

The three of them talked for a while and Francesca told them about what had happened during the time Yennefer was asleep. As it turned out, the Northern Kingdoms really had fought back Nilfgaard successfully, chasing them back over the Yaruga, and Vilgefortz had taken it upon himself to negotiate a peace treaty between the north and Nilfgaard.

The man had cut the connection between them during the battle after she had felt his energy again without explanation, that much she remembered. Since she still had no feasible explanation for his actions, she chose not to trust him or anything to do with him, including the treaty. Of course, she didn’t tell the elves about that. They might help her now but for very different reasons, and other than their morals she had no idea on whose side they’d stand once this was over. They needn’t know she wasn’t on Nilfgaard’s side at all.

She supposed it was all fair and well as long as Nilfgaard didn’t throw every mage into servitude, but those were just her own selfish wishes. That the elves’ motivations were different was completely understandable. It didn’t mean that Yennefer had to follow them blindly, though, so she had her reservations about Francesca, too, seeing as the woman apparently helped the Redanian mage with the negotiations.

The young woman only rolled her eyes when she heard the gossip of Foltest already setting his eyes on Brugge and upper Sodden. After Cintra had fallen, the two countries had no king or queen to serve anymore, and it was likely that they looked to someone else to govern them instead of taking matters into their own hands. Pathetic, in Yennefer’s opinion, but nobody had asked her.

At the information that Geralt had been at the monument commemorating the sorcerers’ brave sacrifice, she feigned disinterest. In truth, Yennefer felt immense frustration at hearing that the man still cared. Apparently he couldn’t apprehend that, no matter if she had survived or not, she was still angry enough at him to not go and see him for the next thirty years. Or at least until they weren’t bound to each other anymore.

The conversation faded out after a while and Yennefer took the opportunity to ask Francesca if she had heard something about or from Triss. The woman looked at Filavandrel in confusion and unease, throwing him an expressive look. The man said, “don’t look at me like that, I told her she’s dead almost as soon as she woke up.”

“And I chose not to believe you. When I left the keep she was alive, though injured. So I ask you again: Have you heard from her,” Yennefer insisted. Filavandrel shook his head in frustration, again making the sorceress pleased at her ability to irritate the man. Francesca looked at her with a pitying expression and softly shook her head. But the young sorceress still denied what she was being told. Instead of accepting the bad news, she set it to her mind to get as much rest as she needed after seeing the sage and, after that, she would teleport to Triss’ house in Maribor to see whether she was there. It was the only place plausible for the woman to have gone into hiding.

When Filavandrel suggested she ask the sage to help her with that, too, she only replied that she wouldn’t be indebted to an elven sage more than she had to. In fact, she was opposed to being in debt to anyone, but that was beside the point. She already owed Tissaia her life, sort of, and that was about all the debt she wanted to take on in life, even though they should be even after Yennefer had refrained from burning the rectoress at Sodden.

There was an awkward moment of silence before Francesca looked from Yennefer to Filavandrel and back before clearing her throat and sitting up a bit straighter. The sorceress had a pretty good feeling of what she was about to say and grinned when she heard Francesca request, “listen, Yennefer, I don’t mean to be rude in any way, and I’m really sorry, but there are some private things I wish to discuss with Filavandrel.” Replying that it was no problem at all, she got up and ventured to the other side of the clearing that served as their camp.

The horses turned their heads in her direction as she approached. On her way over, she had picked up an apple and a knife to cut it into edible pieces. Holding out her hand to one horse at a time, she watched them contently munch away at their piece. Her own horse nuzzled her affectionately and she couldn’t help but smile at that. She had to admit that her white steed had grown on her more than she had expected to, though the sorceress was quite aware of the fact that it wasn’t hers. If Filavandrel felt so inclined, he would let her keep it.

The sorceress spent some time brushing the horses, something she’d normally not do but now, it felt somewhat cathartic to her. At some point, the sun had begun to sink deeper and deeper, and as they were in the forest, it got dark pretty quickly. Francesca had departed from their camp not too long after Yennefer had left, although it had been enough time to seemingly start a hissing contest with Filavandrel. Since there was nothing else to do, Yennefer went over to the camp beds and got ready for bed. She knew that they would continue their search for Tissaia in the morning, so she needed her rest.

Since they had started their journey, Yennefer’s health had improved to the point where she could use her Chaos without any risks. But at the end of each day, she was still exhausted and in need of rest. Just like tonight, which meant that it didn’t take her long to fall asleep at all.

* * *

Yennefer was woken by a scream somewhere in the forest in the early hours of the morning. It was a high-pitched scream not too far away from them, and it caused a rush of adrenaline inside her. The others had woken as well, though they didn’t look nearly as anxious as Yennefer felt.

A rather loud argument ensued in somewhere in between the trees and Yennefer got up though she cowered in the shadows. One of the voices could be identified as Murbrath, the elf that had left them in Vengerberg a few days past. He was speaking in elder, which led Yennefer to believe that he was with at least one other elf.

From the shreds that reached her ears, she deduced that the argument was about the health of a captive, and Yennefer wondered what Murbrath had a captive for. She thought Filavandrel had sent him out to get news to the other elves in Dol Blathana, so why was he coming back to them with a hostage. And if it was a hostage, why was he worried about their health?

Said hostage chose this very moment to voice their protest in a rather loud manner. The voice was obviously a woman’s voice, though it was distorted by what Yennefer guessed was a sore throat and the protest was followed by a coughing fit. Whoever was with the elves was human and definitely not healthy. The woman was most definitely ignored as another voice answered Murbrath in elder, saying that her health was none of their business. Their objective had been getting her to Filavandrel.

At the mention of his name, the elven king spoke up, giving them the sign that where they were, The sorceress looked at him with an incredulous expression on her face, not quite believing that the man had any part in this.

Soon after the shout, a group of elves broke through the line of trees and stepped into their line of sight. There were six elves, one of which lead a black horse, around Murbrath, who carried a woman in ragged clothing. The brunette in the tall elf’s arms was only half-conscious and was attempting to struggle against the man’s hold.

“What happened to her?” Filavandrel sounded concerned for the woman, and Yennefer was curious as to who it was. The light was too dim, and the woman’s face was hidden by shadows. And the shadows were exactly where Yennefer stayed with six unknown individuals close to her. Murbrath made excuses, saying how it wasn’t his fault, that they had found her in this condition and had rushed to get her to the group just like they had been told.

The dark-haired elf laid the woman down by the fire, covering her with a blanket, and suddenly Yennefer felt as though someone had punched her in the gut. She rushed out of the shadows, making two of the new arrivals jump in surprise, and kneeled down next to the brunette. Placing her hands on the woman’s cheeks, she breathed, “Tissaia?”

The rectoress’ eyes were only half-open, and her skin was burning up. Turning to Filavandrel, she stated that the woman had a rather high fever and asked him if they had some rags and water to make cold compresses to help bring down the fever. The elven king only looked at one of the other elves who rolled his eyes but left without a comment.

“Y-Yen…?” Tissaia’s voice was weak and her eyes unfocused, but she definitely recognised the raven-haired woman in front of her. Turning her whole attention to the sorceress by the fire, Yennefer shushed calmingly, whispering, “I’m right here, you’ll be fine, I promise.” She said it with such conviction that it scared her. It was quite unlike her to feel protective over a person, seeing as that would require her to care about the person, which she never had, until now. And now, Yennefer concluded, she seemed to care about Tissaia. Enough to examine her to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

The woman winced slightly when Yennefer brushed against her wrists. Gaze falling onto the place in question, Yennefer noticed red weals, indicating that the woman had been bound with tight ropes. Head spinning to Murbrath, she hissed, “you didn’t seriously tie her up, did you?” He had the good graces to look ashamed.

Getting back to examining her, she was glad to see that her cough, which sounded dangerously like pneumonia, and the dangerous amount of weight the woman had lost, were the only things wrong with her. With enough care, she could fix both of that soon enough.

Filavandrel crouched down next to her, setting down a bowl of water and handing her a clean piece of cloth. She thanked him quietly and busied herself with whipping down the sweat on the sorceress’ forehead. When the elf moved to help her, she swatted his hand away, saying, “don’t! You will not touch her, do you understand? From now on she is my responsibility, you and your men have done enough to help.”

A knowing look entered his face as he watched her care for Tissaia in a way she had never cared for anyone else. After a few moments of quiet observation, he asked if this meant that she would finally be willing to take a break if only to make sure her precious rectoress would be alright. Glaring at him, she grumbled that she’d rather not, but as soon as she gazed back at Tissaia she caved, saying that maybe two days of staying in the same place would do them some good.

Apparently deciding not to test his luck, he took what was offered to him and left her to her own devices. With a sigh, she dipped the cloth back into the cool water to repeat the process. After a moment of silence, she began to hum what she hoped was a calming melody. It appeared to be working because even though she shivered, a slight smile appeared on Tissaia’s face.

“Okay, Tissaia, I’ll get you a few more blankets,” she said it in an attempt not to have the other woman freak out about her sudden absence. It didn’t work, however, seeing as she wined in protest, trying to free one of her hands from her blanket and trying to turn towards Yennefer. She had to be in a really bad state to warrant this type of behaviour. Putting her hands on either arm of the rectoress, she shushed her again, emphasizing that she’d only be gone a minute.

Putting the extra blankets over Tissaia, the woman opened her eyes yet again to look at her. When Yennefer shifted again after putting the last blanket over the rectoress, she looked at her with a displeased look, mewling, “don’t leave again, please.” This was the second time she had ever heard the woman say please, and she found herself unable to refuse her for some reason.

“Okay Tissaia, I won’t, I promise. Don’t worry, when you wake up, I’ll still be there. Just let me lay down, okay?” The slightest of smiles appeared on the brunette’s face for a split second before her eyes drifted closed again. Making herself comfortable next to the sorceress, she gazed at her and noticed the slight expression of displeasure.

Chuckling slightly, she asked, “what is the matter? Am I too far away for your taste?” When the other just hummed affirmatively, Yennefer had to hold back a real laugh. Shifting closer to the other woman, she laid on her side as she threw one arm over the smaller woman’s midriff and pressed her forehead against the side of Tissaia’s head.

Her reward was a content hum from the older woman who slowly but surely drifted off to sleep. Just as she noticed the flaw in her plan, meaning the fact that she was now lying there without a blanket, someone approached her. Toruviel, who had come with them without giving them much of a choice in the matter, had noticed her mistake before her and had decided to come over and give her a blanket. Silently thanking the woman, she tucked herself tighter into the thick blanket in the hopes of getting rid of the morning chill.

The sun was probably halfway up by now, but seeing as she had agreed to stay in the camp for a few days, she didn’t see the harm of sleeping a little bit longer. It wasn’t like she had a whole lot to do here anyway. Now that Tissaia was with them, she was also in less of a hurry to get to her destination. If anyone would have asked, she couldn’t explain why, but now that the rectoress was there, all that mattered was her well-being, because if she was there, everything would turn out to be alright. It always had.

In conclusion, a few days of boredom wouldn’t hurt her too much. She even had a distraction, seeing as she thought herself completely capable of caring enough for a person to dispel any boredom she might feel.

Seizing her chance at sleep before her surroundings turned too bright, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Burrowing her nose in Tissaia’s hair, which she had freed from a messy braid earlier on, she smiled contently. Her sister had a good nose, she had to give her that. Though Yennefer would never willingly admit to anyone, least of all herself, that she quite enjoyed being this close to the scent of Oakmoss and Sandalwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments, they really mean a lot to me.


	14. Protectiveness and Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I forget that yesterday was Friday as I buried myself in criminal law for my oral exam? Yes. Did anyone complain? Not that I know of. Sorry for the delay, folks!  
> Disclaimer: Neither the world of the Witcher nor its characters belong to me. No profit is made from is and no copyright infringement was intended.

“Yennefer…” it was a sound of protest that the sorceress had grown well accustomed to over the past two days. Gently shushing Tissaia and reassuring her that she’d be right back, Yennefer carefully tried to disentangle herself from the other woman’s grip.

No matter how tightly Yennefer had tucked her in over the past two days, she had always found a way to free her arms and throw them around her. It was very unlike Tissaia, but she clung to the raven-haired woman like wax. While that effectively prevented her from getting up, it also allowed her to check the woman’s condition regularly.

It hadn’t improved since she had been brought to them by the Scoia’tael. She was still not in her right mind, judging by the nonsense she was slurring, and she still suffered from a high fever. The rectoress was in no way able to ride her horse, and Yennefer had told Filavandrel as much.

“Well, then I can sit her on my horse with me, but we need to go. If we stay, another rainfall could reach us and make matters worse, and we’ll be able to care for her better once we reached the sage.” Yennefer truly believed that the elf meant well, but she was vehemently opposed to his plan. When she had told him as much, he just gave her one of his frustratingly knowing smiles and suggested she ride with her instead. Knowing that there was no other option, she had agreed to it.

Murbrath had readied her horse for her, but she double-checked her horse as well as Tissaia’s, which was now laden with their provisions. As she led her horse over to the rectoress, the woman observed her with a watchful gaze. Yennefer had noticed that the woman had taken up the habit of staying relatively calm as long as she could see her, though she had yet to figure out why that was.

“Tissaia, we need to get moving, do you think you can sit up for me?” As she asked, she pealed two of the four blankets away from the rectoress and handed them over to Toruviel, who was waiting for them so she could complete her preparations.

Conscious enough to follow simple requests, the woman sat up slowly and with a discontent groan. With a slight chuckle, Yennefer took her hands and slowly pulled her to her feet. Filavandrel, who was already on his horse, told her that he’d help her get Tissaia onto the horse.

“Sometimes you can’t do everything alone, and if you don’t accept help, she might get hurt,” he said when he saw her protective expression. She nodded hesitantly and waited until he was next to her horse before helping Tissaia up. Filavandrel grabbed the rectoress’ hand, pulling her up and making sure she sat securely as he put his hand on her shoulder to prevent her from falling down again.

Yennefer threw the other two blankets onto her horse and mounted it, her front against Tissaia’s back. Slightly leaning backwards, the young sorceress wrapped the blankets around Tissaia to prevent her from growing cold. She thanked destiny for sending her a well-trained horse, because she could not hold the reigns and also make sure Tissaia didn’t fall off.

When she asked the brunette to please not fall asleep on her, the woman mumbled, “I’ll try my best, no promises, though.” Remembering that she had done nothing but sleeping over the last 48 hours, Yennefer shook her head in amusement.

The elves said goodbye to Filavandrel, mentioning something about them not really liking the task of retrieving random sorceresses for him. Not liking the sound of that, Yennefer pressed further into Tissaia’s back and made a mental note to confront him about it once they made camp. Despite the fact that Yennefer had to go slower than she’d like to, the group made pretty good progress on their way to the Kestrel mountains. By nightfall they were close to Ban Gléan, which meant that they’d turn west in the morning, making their way towards the visible mountain peaks.

Yet again accepting Filavandrel’s help, she got Tissaia off her horse again. Toruviel was quick to lay out their camp bed while Yennefer kept the rectoress from sinking to her knees. A day in the saddle had been taxing for both of them, though the rectoress hadn’t had much strength to begin with.

As Yennefer set her down, the woman gazed up and smiled before reaching for her obsidian star. “You kept it,” she murmured with amazement colouring her voice. Patiently pushing her hand down and covering her with blankets again she replied that, of course, she had kept it. She also pointed out that she should know that because she’d worn it during the whole battle.

“Did you…” Tissaia trailed off, apparently stopping herself from asking whatever was on her mind. Curious as to what went on in the woman’s head, Yen prompted her to go on. Green eyes pierced hers with surprising lucidity and Tissaia asked, “when you made it the key to your house, did you realize it meant giving me access as well?” Now was the time where Yennefer asked herself how much the woman would actually remember from the delirium after recovering.

Giving her a placating smile she murmured, “I did not. In fact, I didn’t even realize how much its energy signature resembled yours until my sister told me you were at my house. Of course, she didn’t see you herself, she just gave me my neighbours’ description and told me about the smell of Sandalwood and Oakmoss that was in my bedroom for some reasons.” When the brunette opened her mouth to undoubtedly explain, Yennefer softly pressed a finger against her lips, telling her that it was okay.

“But that was what got me thinking and I realized why, no matter where I went over the years, it always felt like you were with me. I guess the reason why it took me so long to realize it was that I was so used to having you around me after all the years at Aretuza. And though it was frustrating over the years to feel like you were always looking over my shoulder, I also have to thank you. Without the feeling of not truly being alone, I probably would’ve done a lot worse in one situation or another,” she told the rectoress with a smile.

Tissaia hummed, but she didn’t say anything to that. She looked exhausted, so Yennefer told her to rest while she got them something to eat. While the rectoress didn’t look particularly pleased at that, she also didn’t object.

Approaching Murbrath, she inquired where Toruviel had gone off to. He looked up from the fire he was fuelling and said, “Filavandrel sent her to the village to ask for some food, and steal a chicken.” Yennefer frowned and pointed out that they had veal from the last market they had stopped at. The elf laughed at that and argued, “yes, that’s for us. But the king said that you don’t have the supplies to make any sort of healing potion for the rectoress’ pneumonia so we need to fall back on traditional ways of healing.” Right, Yen thought, food had more use than the provision of nourishment.

Wandering over to Filavandrel, she asked if there was anything she could do to help. He gave her a pouch filled with edible nuts and seeds, replying that she didn’t need to leave Tissaia’s side if she didn’t want to. It was a relief to hear that, since she hadn’t really been willing to do so one way or another. Remembering that she had wanted to confront him about the thing the Scoia’tael had said this morning, she stopped her movements and looked him dead in the eye, asking what they had talked about.

“Well I… in an effort to safe us some time, I sent Murbrath ahead to get the unit to apprehend Tissaia and bring her to us,” he explained in a matter of fact voice. Yennefer couldn’t believe the man in front of her and was speechless for a second.

Looking over to the rectoress to make sure she was still resting, she stepped closer to the king and hissed, “are you mental? And you didn’t think to mention any of that to me?” Normally, she would’ve shouted at the elf with complete disregard to the consequences, but she really didn’t want to agitate Tissaia.

Filavandrel raised an eyebrow and told her that he hadn’t thought she’d agree to it. The sorceress sputtered indignantly and bit back, “you think? Seeing how they treated her I would have been right to refuse, too!”

“They’re not at fault for her pneumonia, though. Their objective was to bring her to us unharmed –“ “- and they followed that objective perfectly by tying her up and throwing her on her horse,” she interrupted the elf’s reasoning. To her, there was no excusing the elves’ behaviour, and the fact Tissaia hadn’t fallen off her horse on the way and injured herself was a miracle.

Filavandrel was taken aback by the ferocity of her hissing. Looking back and forth between the two women, he was lost in thought for a moment. Hesitantly, he mumbled, “I know you care about her a great deal, so I apologize for the disrespectful way my unit treated her. Now, not that I want you to calm down but I think Tissaia’s getting restless. I suggest you go to her and give her part of the snack. And please stay with her, she seems to dislike being separated from you even more than you do. Toruviel will bring you your food as soon as it’s ready.”

The sorceress hated being told what to do, but he left no room for argument as he turned around and started brushing down his horse. Taking a second to calm down, she gazed at Tissaia. Seemingly feeling her gaze, the woman opened her eyes, locking them with hers almost immediately. The rectoress smiled at her in her delirious state, and Yennefer felt all her anger melt away. Maybe the king of the elves wasn’t entirely wrong in thinking that she cared about the woman.

Slightly shaking her head she went back to the rectoress and asked if she was hungry. All she got as a response was a hum, but the spark in the green depths at the mention of food was all Yennefer needed. The sorceress helped Tissaia sit against the tree that was next to their camp bed. She took a swat next to the brunette and started feeding her the nuts, not once thinking about the fact that Tissaia’s hands were very much functional.

Some time went by with the women sitting in comfortable silence and Filavandrel played a round of Dice Poker with Murbrath while waiting for their food to be finished. The faint rustling of leaves was the only indication of Toruviel’s return and when she stepped out of the shadows all of a sudden, Yennefer could feel Tissaia jump slightly. Absentmindedly she put a hand on the other woman’s upper arm as she watched the elf put down a sack. Judging by the movement, Yennefer guessed that there was a chicken in the bag.

It was indeed a chicken, which was promptly prepared for slaughter by Murbrath, who had the good sense to do it in a way that made it impossible for them to watch. Tissaia leaned closer to Yennefer, burrowing her face in the crook of her neck to be sure not to see anything. The sorceress, who had at some point swung her legs over Tissaia’s, scooted closer to the tree, turning her upper body towards Tissaia as she pulled her closer into the comforting hug.

After a moment the brunette freed her hands from under the blanket and put her arms around Yennefer’s neck, pulling her even closer with a content sigh. Only as she tightened her grip on the woman did Yennefer realize how intimate their position was. Normally it would’ve freaked her out. Except with Tissaia, if only in this moment, it felt right.

The two of them stayed like that for a long while. Based on the fact that Tissaia had stopped coughing quite as often, Yennefer assumed that he had fallen asleep. She found it remarkable that the rectoress had done so without relaxing her grip on the raven-haired woman in the slightest.

A slight tap on her shoulder tore her from her musings. She turned around to find Toruviel with a large bowl of stew in hand, two spoons inside it. Gently nudging Tissaia to wake her up, she had to suppress a smile when the woman did so with a grumble.

The rectoress looked at the bowl of chicken stew with several green ingredients with an expression of distaste. While Yennefer could genuinely understand the feeling, she wasn’t having any of her protests. Offering the rectoress a spoon full, she said, “come on, I know it’s far from ideal, but I need you to eat.”

To her surprise, Tissaia did as she was told, which made it possible for Yen to alternate between feeding herself and the brunette. When they were done, Yennefer got up and asked Tissaia to get comfortable on the camp bed while she gave the bowl back. After that, she returned to Tissaia, brushed a strand of hair out of the rectoress’ face and laid down next to her. Almost as soon as her back hit the ground, Tissaia instinctively shifted towards her. Softly putting an arm around her, she murmured, “good night, Tissaia.” She was genuinely surprised that the woman was still awake enough to respond, “night, Yen…”

* * *

Inhaling deeply, Tissaia couldn’t stop a slight smile from forming on her face as she registered the scent of Lilac and gooseberries she had missed for so long. She became acutely aware of the fact that she had her arm thrown over Yennefer’s waist and her head was resting on the woman’s chest. Under different circumstances, she would’ve removed herself and either pretended it never happened or apologised to the sorceress profusely.

The real Yennefer would never have stayed glued to her side for days, let alone tolerate her uncharacteristic clinginess. There was really only one possible explanation for that, Tissaia had to be dead. Though she had imagined death to be free from disease and pain, but maybe the condition the deceased had been in at their time of death simply turned infinite. It didn’t make sense, but as long as she could keep Yennefer with her, she wouldn’t question it.

She would deal with it all. The exhaustion, the sore throat and the constant cycle of freezing and being too hot. If only she were immune to the dreams her fever caused her. Being stuck in a loop of Fringilla betraying her and everyone she loves dying wasn’t pleasant at all, not that she’d expect it to be.

Yennefer, who had her arms around the rectoress, tightened her hold and whispered, “it's okay, I'm here and you're safe. No harm will come to you.” Her voice was soothing and calmed her immediately. Though she also wondered what she might've said in her sleep to warrant such a gentle approach.

“Get some more rest, Tissaia,” said the sleepy woman beneath her, “you need strength for the ride tomorrow.” As she snuggled even closer to Yennefer, she let out a content sigh. She felt a chuckle go through Yennefer, making her protest and point out that she didn't appreciate being laughed at.

Yennefer calmingly ran her hand through Tissaia’s hair and murmured, “I’m sorry, it is just ironic, thinking back to how you mockingly called me adorable after that first night at Aretuza and yet you are the one who is actually adorable right now. I never thought the great rectoress could ever be this clingy.”

Tissaia swallowed hard at the memory. To think that she might’ve lost the woman so long ago was actually horrifying. Tightening her grip around the woman’s waist, she said, “that’s not funny, Yennefer. Not at all. Looking back now, even after my life is over, it’s the scariest thing, to think you might’ve succeeded.”

The hand that was combing through her hair suddenly stopped its motions. The raven-haired sorceress gently pushed her a bit and shifted so that she could look at her. Tissaia saw that Yennefer had a confused look on her face as she gazed deep into Tissaia’s green and hazy eyes.

“You talk as though you’re dead when you decidedly aren’t.” Of course afterlife-Yennefer would say that, Tissaia thought as she put her head back down. Yennefer, however, had none of that as she grabbed her chin and forced her to meet those beautiful violet depths again. “Don’t avoid me, rectoress, it doesn’t suit you. After all this time I spent antagonizing you, you still make it sound as though you care about me.”

Tissaia scowled at her, hissing, “of course I do, stupid girl. I always cared about you, eventually more than was good for me. When you left for Aedirn without so much as a goodbye, you broke my heart and did so again in Rinde, and I still can’t help but love you. It’s all I know how to do at this point.”

The smirk on Yennefer’s face vanished faster than she could comprehend, and the hand holding her face in place slowly retracted. The raven-haired woman adopted a neutral expression and Tissaia, not quite lucid enough to comprehend what she had just said, returned her look with a slight feeling of unease. Something was afoot.

“You really think you’re dead, don’t you?” The qualm and collected manner in which the question was posed was a refreshing change from her usual behaviour, at least the behaviour Tissaia had been confronted with over decades of mutual avoidance. She let out a small chuckle as she laid her head back down and murmured, “of course I am. How else am I to explain the fact that you don’t distance yourself from me in disgust every five minutes?”

Tissaia was in too much of a delirium to notice how shallow Yennefer’s breathing had gotten, let alone the fact that she swallowed thickly at the brunette’s words. She didn’t register how shaky her pillow’s voice sounded when she asked if that was really what she had done. If it had really come across that way.

Lifting her heavy head to meet violet eyes with her gaze once more, Tissaia murmured weakly, “I can hardly blame you. Our first interaction was dominated by the fact that I _bought_ you, Yennefer, how could you do anything but hate me? Doesn’t mean I didn’t watch you grow, doesn’t mean I didn’t slowly fall in love with every aspect of you. I tried so hard to give you everything you desired, I’m only sorry I failed you in the end.”

It was then that Yennefer gently pushed her head back down, and she almost sounded sad as she said, “rest, rectoress. Tomorrow will be a long day and I will not be the only one working on keeping you on my horse. “ The soothing patterns Yennefer’s finger traced on her back under the blanket were soothing and, as much as she wanted to stay awake and relish the feeling, it made her fall asleep, slowly but surely.

Just as she was about to drift off completely again, she thought she heard the other woman say, “it’s almost a shame you won’t remember any of this once you’ve recovered… though I am curious as to how you will react once you realize that you’re alive. Shame you couldn’t have meant any of this.” Had she been any more awake than she was, Tissaia would’ve objected violently. Or at least as persistently as her state of weakness allowed her.

* * *

It really was a shame, Yennefer thought as she gently wiggled out of Tissaia’s embrace. Over the past days, she had barely ever left her side as she felt some sort of need to protect the woman from everything as long as she was in no state to defend herself. And yet she now felt as though she couldn’t breathe, as though the rectoress was suffocating her without doing anything, so she had to get away, even for just a few minutes.

She was the first to admit that she was not at all able of dealing with any sort of intense feelings. Hell, that was the reason why she wanted to be cut apart from Geralt’s destiny in the first place. The sorceress was convinced she was fine on her own, that feelings of any kind would only slow her down.

Except for hate, hate only helped her on her path. Or so she thought. Maybe that’s why she was so quick to display contempt whenever it seemed suitable. Though, upon further reflection, she wondered if it was really helpful or simply easier for her. Human’s did tend to choose the way of the least resistance, and she was mostly human.

Yennefer forced herself to take a few deep breaths to calm down. They were currently in the middle of a forest, a days ride from their destination. Losing her nerves now would help nobody. Least of all her. Reminding herself that she was still very much neutral when it came to Tissaia, and that the woman couldn’t have possibly meant any of the things she said as she was clearly delirious, she slipped back under her covers. When Tissaia instinctively reached for her, she suppressed the urge to run away again.

It had already been early morning when she had left, so now she only had a short amount of time to get more rest. Sleep wouldn’t come to her now, she knew that, so she resigned herself to the fact that she would just lay there with closed eyes and try not to think of anything too meaningful.

After what felt like an eternity, Filavandrel crouched down next to her and told her to get up and eat her breakfast. That meant that she’d also make sure Tissaia ate her fill while the others packed their stuff and got the horses ready.

She quickly wolfed down her ration and packed the things they didn’t necessarily need in an effort to afford the rectoress some more sleep. When she came back, Tissaia has started to stir already, so Yennefer gently nudged her shoulder and told her it was time to eat.

It was surprising how compliant the rectoress was, seeing as she wasn’t particularly hungry in the first place. Yennefer didn't think that eating while constantly coughing was all too pleasant either.

Gently checking Tissaia’s temperature, she smiled to herself when she noted that her fever had gone down a little. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed when the rectoress leaned into her cool touch with a pleased hum. Wiping the smile from her face she got up and offered the rectoress her hand so she could get up.

Filavandrel was already waiting by her horse so he could be of assistance again. This time they already knew how not to get her up, so getting Tissaia, who was also more helpful today, into the saddle went significantly quicker than the day before.

Like the day before, Yennefer pulled herself up behind the woman and took the blanket out of Toruviel's hands to wrap it around the rectoress. As soon as the group started and Yen stopped fidgeting, Tissaia leant back into Yennefer. The sorceress didn’t even notice how she subconsciously tightened her grip around her, but she did notice that the woman slid her hand under Yennefer’s and intertwined their fingers.

They rode in silence and as fast as they dared. If everything went according to plan, the group should reach the mansion of the elven sage shortly before nightfall. Having one horse trott after the others without a rider to properly stir it into the right direction was a disadvantage, but Filavandrel assured them that they’d make it in time.

The forest around them was eerily quiet and Yennefer couldn’t see very far. Not liking the feeling she got, she pressed her calves against the horse’s body to make it speed up. Something told her that being closer to the elves was safer.

She was just about to announce her discomfort to Filavandrel when she heard a sound next to her horse. Looking over she was shocked at what she saw. Towering over their heads was a giant snake with two heads, hissing violently at them. Logically she knew such a beast didn’t exist, and yet here it was.

Their horses did what every self-respecting horse would: they reacted violently. With violent fear, to be exact. Within a split second all hell broke loose as the other horses reacted faster than Yennefer’s even though Yennefer was closer to the beast. They broke out into a wild canter and the sorceress instinctively knew that she had to act quickly.

The hand around Tissaia’s tightened its grip as she pulled the woman even closer to her, as Yennefer’s other hand reached for the reigns and picked them up. She dared not pull on them too hard as her horse charged through the woods for fear of it might rear back and throw them both off. All she could do was hold on for dear life, both onto the horse and Tissaia.

In their current situation, Yennefer had two worries. One being the unsteady seat Tissaia had on this horse, and she knew that she could not let her fall. The other was holding her too tight and hurting her in the process, and judging by the way Tissaia gasped for air in front of her, she was either doing that or the speed had something to do with that.

Suddenly the two of them were behind a treeline, finding themselves out in the open. For a reason only known to Yennefer’s horse, it turned sharply and without warning, making her slide out of the saddle. Without a second thought, she turned before falling fully, pulling Tissaia in an angle that allowed her to be sure the woman would land on top of her. With the reigns dropped, her now free hand flew to the brunette’s head, trying to shield it from any possible damage as she waited for her back to hit the ground.

It took Yennefer a moment to regain her bearings when she did, she immediately looked to Tissaia who had rolled off of her as soon as they had hit the grass beneath them. The woman had her eyes screwed shut as she let out a groan. And Yennefer breathed a sigh of relief that she was alive and conscious, at least.

Swinging one leg over her, Yennefer straddled her lap as her hands gently held Tissaia’s had, trying to get her attention. “Tissaia, Tissaia!” Her voice was adamant, silently begging the woman to look at her and confirm that she hadn’t sustained any damage from the fall. After a second, the woman stilled and finally opened her eyes searched for Yennefer’s. The raven-haired woman took it for a good sign that her pupils weren’t dilated and that there was a sense of clarity in those green depths.

Tissaia’s lips formed a small smile and she whispered, “well then, I suppose I really am alive if a simple fall from a horse scares you this much. Nice to know you care, too.” The panic that had for some inexplainable reason gripped her heart suddenly let go, letting Yennefer breathe again. Tension seeping from her body, she kept her hands by Tissaia’s cheeks as she burrowed her face in the crook of her neck.

“Yennefer, as much as I delight in the fact that you don’t seem to hate me anymore, you might want to reconsider the position you’re in,” the rectoress whispered in her ear in a low voice. Looking up, Yennefer became acutely aware of the fact that the rest of the group was standing not far from them, all watching the two women on the ground.

As though burnt by lightning, Yennefer shot up, not daring to look into Tissaia’s eyes again. Glancing at the manor behind the group, as well as the unknown man at its door, she instinctively knew that they had made it. Filavandrel spoke up, telling her what she had deduced herself already. She glared at him, asking if that meant Tissaia would be afforded proper care now. In fact, she made him swear she would be taken care of.

Almost as soon as he did, she turned and marched into the woods again, though not far enough to blindly wander into the illusion spell that was placed on it. No wonder the snake had two heads, that spell might be powerful but with the grounds, it covered it could never be perfect, no matter who cast it.

The rustling of leaves behind her told her that she was being followed, most likely by Murbrath. As much as she appreciated Filavandrel’s concern for her safety, she’d rather he leave her alone for a while. She was behaving uncharacteristically and she wanted to figure out why, she had to, but she couldn’t when watched by a babysitter.

It was as though the elf sensed her discomfort with his presence because he backed off a short distance. Not enough to lose her, but enough to give her a sense of privacy. As much privacy as she could feel like having while wearing the choker invoked with Tissaia’s chaos.

For years she had hated the woman for seemingly always controlling her every move and, after she left Aretuza, her thoughts. The fact that she always felt like the rectoress was somehow there was annoying at times, sure. But there was something else to it.

Something that she had never admitted to herself. Something that she still didn’t want to face even though she was now practically forced to. That, while it was sometimes too much to seemingly always have the woman around, it simultaneously also never was quite enough. Yennefer fought the realization, yet she couldn’t stop it from hitting her with brute force that, more often than not, it had felt like it wasn’t enough.

The feeling she predominantly had was that, while she had part of what she needed to thrive and be happy, it was never quite satisfactory. Like an itch she was never able to scratch. All this time Tissaia wasn’t actually inadvertently crowding her, she had been a missing part of her.

Just a few short minutes ago, though, Tissaia had fallen off her horse. Granted, she had fallen too, but it had been her responsibility to keep the woman save from harm. Her job had been to be vigilant, and yet she didn’t even notice that blasted spell. Tissaia could’ve gotten hurt because of it. She could’ve died, because of her.

Grief and panic filled her again at the thought that she might have. It was illogical for Yennefer to feel that way when she already knew everything had turned out to be fine. And yet she couldn’t help it. She needed the other woman to be fine. If she died, Yennefer didn’t know what she’d do.

She couldn’t comprehend it fully, however. What it meant, for her, for _them_. All she knew in this particular moment was that she felt open, vulnerable. Yennefer didn’t like it one bit. Her whole life had been spent pushing back feelings of all kind and suddenly they fought back? That wasn’t right. Why couldn’t she just push everything back down the way she did best, she wondered.

Feeling helpless, Yennefer did what Yennefer does best: she lashed out. Even if it was only to destroy a few trees and bushed around her, not caring which Murbrath sat in. She just let it all out until her head was clear again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to Yanana for making the poor horse carry two people but, well, it was necessary.  
> And thank you all for your comments, they made me smile. Also no, I really wasn't kidding with the slow-burn, sorry.  
> I may or may not run out of chapters at some point, so be warned. The slow-burn is mostly over at that point though, so don't fret.


	15. Coming to Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yennefer has a hard time accepting her feelings after years of denial and Tissaia is forced to rest in her bed to get pneumonia out of her system before it kills her. Also, the elven sage gets on Yennefer's nerves by being entirely too knowledgeable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow we are in chapter 15 and I haven't once mentioned that this story was inspired by the fanvideo made by the wonderful xJellyDonut, shame on me. Really. Check out her videos, she is a genius.  
> Disclaimer: Neither the world of the Witcher nor its Characters belong to me or are in any way, shape or form my property. No money is being made from this and no copyright infringement was intended.

The dryness of her throat felt almost unbearable when Tissaia awoke. How she had gotten into a rather comfortable bed she had no knowledge of. As soon as she let out an uncomfortable groan she heard the rustling of clothes nearby, indicating that someone was in the room with her. Yennefer’s name tumbled from her lips even though she had no intention of speaking it, there was no reason for the woman to be here, after all.

When she opened her eyes they immediately fell on the man stood beside her. He smiled at her and apologetically said, “afraid not. May I introduce myself: my name is Filavandrel, you might have heard of me as the elven king.” The man was kind enough to offer her a cup of water, which she greedily gulped down as he explained how he knew of her and inquired how she felt.

Upon hearing her say that she had had the strangest dream, he looked at her with a knowing expression and prompted, “well you have slept for almost two days, would you like to tell me what you experienced in those dreams that they could seem stranger to you than your journey here?”

Considering him for a moment, she found that she kind of owed him something in exchange of taking care of her. She cleared her throat and said, “there’s this student that I once taught, Yennefer, and I saw visions of her taking care of me. Though it surprises me that my fever dreams would produce such in-depth conversations with the woman that hates me most… but no matter now, I should keep searching for her. Filavandrel, would you be kind enough as to explain where I am and what it is I am doing here?”

A smile had appeared on his face and Tissaia was starting to wonder what the man could possibly know. It was a shame that the rectoress was too weak to even attempt reading his thoughts.

For the first time she let her eyes wander and take in her surroundings. A memory stirred within her, letting her know that she had been here before. Turning her hopeful gaze towards Filavandrel again, he affirmed her suspicion, explaining that the elven sage had taken them all in two days ago.

“He agreed to take care of the injustice that this wretched djinn inflicted on Yennefer, too. You will find that most of your dream wasn’t actually a dream though, Tissaia. While I cannot attest to the extend of your conversations, I can tell you that, ever since the Scoia’tael brought you to us, Yennefer hasn’t left your side. She even refused most of our help until we arrived here,” he explained and smiled at her yet again.

Hope bloomed in her heart. She did not know what prompted the feeling, exactly. It wasn’t like Yennefer would suddenly return her feelings, but maybe she had stopped hating her at some point. Baby steps, right?

Her eyes swept around the room yet again to make sure she hadn’t missed Yen’s presence. Not that she ever could, even if she tried. A regretful look entered Filavandrel’s expression as he doubled over to explain, “she isn’t here, I’m sorry. Something upset her, it seems, and she hardly stepped foot into the house… she’s in the forest, almost as though she is in hiding.”

Not liking the sound of that, Tissaia tried getting out of bed, her mind set on talking to the stubborn woman, only for her to be pushed down into her pillows again. She threw the elf a murderous look as he scolded her, demanding she stay in bed. She was the rectoress of Aretuza and an Archmistress, who was he to stop her? She relented when he offered to get Yennefer to come to her.

Soon after, when she had eaten something, the man had left her to her own devices. The woman was not in the mood for conversation, either way, so she was glad to have some peace. Though that was a relative term, taking into consideration that her mind was running in circles.

Before leaving, Filavandrel had looked at her for a long moment before he said, “love means patience, Tissaia. It needs it desperately sometimes, I hope you know that.” He gave neither background nor explanation, and she did not get why he said that. So far she had been nothing but patient.

Desperately she tried to figure out what was said between Yennefer and her the past days, tried to figure out why the woman refused to leave at all for days just to hide from her in the forest all of a sudden. It didn’t make sense, and all she could think of was that it might have something to do with her vague recollection of them falling from a horse. For her, it was also impossible to forget the blurry memory of Yennefer’s face above her own.

Tissaia heaved a heavy sigh when she noticed her exhaustion, taking note of how tired her eyes were for the first time. Snuggling deeper into the cushions, she gave herself over to sleep again, knowing fully well that she currently couldn’t do much else either way.

* * *

A few hours later, Tissaia woke for the second time that day. Slightly shifting, she slowly opened her eyes which promptly fell onto the figure sitting on her bed. She marvelled at the sight of the woman’s raven hair, drank in the sight of her frame. It was clearly Yennefer who was sitting at the edge of her bed, staring out the window, never taking note of her shifting or simply not reacting. Tissaia would know her anywhere, even though the sorceress was thinner than the last time she had consciously seen her.

For a moment she just stares at Yennefer, appreciating the peace of the moment and finally being in her right mind, capable of really seeing her. Then it hit her, that she was here, with Tissaia. Both of them were alive and relatively well and Yennefer was _here,_ with her.

Gasping her name she surged forward before she could stop herself, her head feeling dizzy at the speed at which she threw her arms around Yennefer’s neck. Tissaia burrowed her face in the raven hair and took a deep breath, relishing the intensive scent of lilac and gooseberries. Noticing that, while hesitant arms encircled her waist, the woman in her grasp was completely tense, she leaned back and mustered her carefully.

“Forgive me,” she whispered as she cupped Yennefer’s cheek, “it’s just that… I was beginning to think I had lost you for good. When I woke up I thought I had dreamt you up entirely…” Her words trailed off as she lost herself in trying to decipher the expression within Yennefer’s eyes. All she could interpret was a good portion of apprehension and confusion.

“I know, Filavandrel told me. But you didn’t, I was there.” It was murmured so quietly that Tissaia almost didn’t catch it. Yennefer didn’t even manage to meet her eyes when the words passed her lips. This was not her Yennefer, Tissaia thought, and she found it to be highly alarming.

The sorceress was torn in some way, and the rectoress had never seen her like this. Even when she had tried to end herself, she had been sure in it. Yennefer of Vengerberg had never been one to doubt herself, and yet here they were.

Hesitantly, Yennefer took the hand resting against her cheek into her own and held it in her lap. Her fingers were softly skimming along Tissaia’s skin, gaze firmly set on her fingers as she asked, “whatever were you doing in Aedirn, Tissaia? All alone and so ill you could’ve perished?”

Any other day she would’ve teased Yennefer about her behaviour. The uncertainty with which she posed her question was something the rectoress forbid all of her students to show. And yet she did not scold her, or tease her, she did not even mention it. 

Tissaia explained that it was her she had been searching for her so that she may fulfil her promise. She told Yennefer how Philippa had told her that she had fallen in battle, along with Vanielle and Triss., but that she hadn’t believed it for a second.

Still refusing to look at her Yennefer inquired why she had gone north after having been in her house. She specifically pointed out that she was aware there was nothing indicating her whereabouts in her home. Not because she was aware that Tissaia could enter her home at any point she wanted, but because she had no idea where she’d end up.

“I went towards the mountains, to the witchers’ castle. Seeing as you two are bound I thought you may have gone to him after the battle, it was the best shot I had.” Tissaia’s voice was calm, yet she felt like something in her was dying with the way Yennefer refused to look at her. In all their years, no matter when, the woman had never denied eye-contact so fervently.

Yennefer huffed a short laugh. It sounded humourless, and with a shake of her head, she turned her gaze out the window again. Her voice was even, almost entirely distanced, when she explained, “your best shot was wrong, rectoress. Even if I had wanted to go to him, I wouldn’t have known where to begin my search. For some reason, I teleported myself to Dol Blathana, where the elves found me. They took care of me, watched over me during the seventeen days I was unconscious. The following days Filavandrel filled me in on everything and at some point he finally allowed me to travel to the elven sage. When we got to Vengerberg my sister told me you were at my house and I insisted on looking for you because despite the fact that you survived the initial battle nobody actually knew if you had survived the Dimeritium poisoning. A few days later the Scoia’tael brought you to us and you were more dead than alive at that point.”

In one swift movement, she stood from the bed and went over to the window. The look in her eyes was distant and cold, almost as though she was desperately trying to hide something. Knowing her she probably was, because if Yennefer hated one thing it was sharing her feelings or thoughts.

Not entirely sure what had gotten into the woman, or how to proceed from here on, Tissaia carefully whispered her name. Whipping around faster than Tissaia would’ve anticipated, the rectoress saw an expression of raging anger replace the cold mask. It was, finally, some form of reaction, yet Tissaia couldn’t help but feel nervous.

The raven-haired woman all but yelled at her, “why would you do that? Why would you, of all people, be stupid enough to travel through Aedirn, alone, in this kind of weather without recovering sufficiently first? Without resting enough for you to stay healthy? By the gods do you _know_ what shape you were in when you reached us, when I finally saw you again? How you didn’t notice the amount of weight you lost is beyond me! The great rectoress almost brought to her knees by her own stupidity-“ she had started moving closer to her again, gesturing about wildly. She sat down by Tissaia’s legs and grasped the rectoress’ hands as the woman only stared at her wonderingly, watching as her forehead rested upon her knuckles.

Apparently catching herself, she lifted her head again and finally looked Tissaia in the eyes, her expression had softened after taking a moment to breathe. Her voice, however, remained at the same volume as she continued, “how could you do this to yourself, almost letting yourself die? How could you do this _to me,_ Tissaia? _How?”_

The rectoress just looked at her in shock, mouth agape. What had happened to make her feel so strongly about her status of wellbeing, Tissaia asked herself. Seconds drew by and Yennefer suddenly remembered herself, dropping the woman’s hands again and abandoning her position on the bed just to yet again adopt a mask of cold indifference.

Facing the fact that her behaviour was just a little too uncharacteristic for nothing to be wrong, Tissaia sat up a bit straighter in bed and tried to catch Yennefer’s eye again. She failed. Not one to bow down, she said, “finding you was more important in this situation, Yennefer. There was a promise to –“ Yennefer interrupted her, hissing, “and how would you have kept a promise if you had died?”

Momentarily at a loss for words, she opened and closed her mouth a few times. Then, giving up on finding a way to goad the woman into giving up the problem on her own, she asked, “Yennefer, I don’t know what’s wrong so will you please just tell me?” She was quite aware that there was an unusual amount of softness in her voice, but at this very moment, she did not feel like she could care.

A minor amount of shock entered the woman’s face as she turned to the rectoress again. It seemed as though she, too, had not expected the rectoress to speak to her in that way after she had yelled at her.

Yennefer heaved a deep sigh and came closer to the bed. At this point, it felt like some kind of bizarre dance between them. Eyes kept firmly on the ground, she answered, “when I took care of you on our way here you had a high fever. You were so delirious that you were of the firm opinion you had died. There were a lot of things you said, some in more lucid moments than others. Maybe you remember asking whether I knew about giving you access to my house by making my choker the key to it. But you also said that you… you couldn’t help but love me. You saying that after I gave you nothing but trouble just… shocked me, I guess. You didn’t mean it, probably, I know that, no need to reiterate your lesson on how nobody will ever love me.”

The amount of information Tissaia had to process at this moment was too much for her to react properly, so she just stared and let Yennefer step closer. As she brushed a strand of hair out of Tissaia’s face, she whispered, “I am, however, glad that you are better now, that you’ll be okay. But don’t do that to me again, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer that the rectoress would’ve needed a moment to carefully formulate, the sorceress removed her hand from her face and took a step back. Lingering for but a moment, Yennefer made a decision Tissaia would never know the true extent of and turned to the door and left without looking back, not even when she closed the door behind her.

Letting out a deep breath, Tissaia stared at the door with a dumbfounded expression. “What the fuck just happened,” she cursed under her breath, not fully grasping what just transpired and, therefore, not knowing what to make of the situation she now found herself in. Apparently she had been way too talk-active in her feverish state, and she was not at all happy at the thought of all the things she might’ve said.

* * *

This time, she did not run away into the forest again. After a couple of days, all the green around her grew rather tiresome. It was also not like she could go anywhere either way. Well, Yennefer certainly could, but that would mean giving up on the help the sage potentially offered her.

And so she stomped through the halls of the mansion, not really knowing where she was headed as she had missed out on the tour a few days back. When she was confronted with large double doors, she simply entered without thinking twice about it. She really should have, though, or at least she thought so after realizing what room she was in now, and with who.

Tisariel was sitting in an armchair, leisurely reading a giant tomb. At her intrusion, he looked up and gave her the smallest smile possible. Yennefer’s feet had apparently grown roots where she had come to a halt. Not that she had any idea as to what the proper reaction to accidentally disturbing an elven sage was.

“Well, Yennefer, don’t just stand there, come on in! I’m glad to see you finally decided to leave the forest.” The man was acting as though she hadn’t just barged in there without prompting. The sorceress blinked at him owlishly, remembered how her body functioned and did as told. She closed the door behind her and tentatively went to stand by the window.

Just leaving again would be rude of her, and so she was trapped physically as she felt mentally. Never had she felt like a trapped animal as much as she did now. She jumped when the sage suddenly asked, “are you going to tell me what’s wrong so we can talk about this or will you pretend nothing is going on and force me to confront you the hard way?”

Openly staring at the man, Yennefer considered her options. On a very deep level she was very clear about what was going on, and yet she was in no way willing to admit to anything. So she closed her eyes, shook her head and turned her gaze out the window. As though that could make Tisariel go away.

He did, of course, do no such thing, much to her dismay. She did not hear him putting down his book and wander over to her. Thus, she jumped when he suddenly stood right next to her and said, “Yennefer, I see you choosing the hard way. Come, why don’t we sit down?”

Laying a hand on her shoulder, he guided her to the large sofa and, with a more than appropriate distance, sat down with her. It made Yennefer question whether he was being respectful or if a forced bond such as hers was just that offending to the sage.

After a moment of consideration, the sage said, “you need to learn how to confront your fears. So far, you’ve been afforded the luxury of running from the world whenever something got too real.” The sorceress wanted to interject and tell him that she had no idea what he was talking about, but he held up a hand, explaining that he saw her.

He saw her past by merely looking at her, as the threads of time and destiny were visible to him. Reading her thoughts – and fears – both conscious and unconscious, came naturally to him. With time and destiny laid bare to him, he was able to anticipate Yennefer’s most likely future, too.

In an effort to not overwhelm her, the sage let her come to terms with the revelation that she couldn’t keep a secret from him. When Tisariel was confident he had given her enough time, he proceeded, “you know that, subconsciously, you’re hiding something in an effort to protect yourself. Being human is not weak, you need to accept that because this defence mechanism will not do you any good. Can you push past your tendencies and tell me what you feel, in general?”

The request sounded simple enough, but it wasn’t. A habit that was exercised for half a century was hard to break in a day, let alone in five minutes. And yet some part of Yennefer, deep down, forced her to listen to the advice that was given to her, even if only just this once.

Turning her head, she contemplated her general state of mind. Delving too deep too soon was scary and also probably not a good idea, so she went with the most superficial feelings she had and said, “lost… and trapped.” At that, Tisariel nodded knowingly.

“Yennefer, both of those feelings are natural, considering your history. Ever since you were a young lady, you wanted to belong, but you never found a place in this world. Your family cast you out, bar your sister, and as a student, Aretuza was too competitive. Aedirn, on the other hand, was not able to love you the way you needed to be.” Yennefer nodded along patiently.

It was strange to have a stranger analyse her past and associated feelings. To have Tisariel analyse her very core self left her on edge, but maybe it was necessary to be vulnerable for once, more so than she had ever been before.

“You feeling lost also stems from your forced bond. Thanks to the Djinn you thought you finally found a place with the Witcher, and when it turned out that it wasn’t so, you began to feel trapped by something you didn’t comprehend yet,” he said and got up again, starting to pace.

The sorceress was glad for the short break. Taking the assessment in was no problem, she was clever enough for that. The struggle was accepting it.

The sage let out a deep sigh, almost as though he was steeling himself for a defensive reaction from her, and implored her, “all those years you clung to hating Tissaia, the woman who saved you in more ways than one. Even worse, you actively talked yourself into it because you restricted yourself, believing that loving her was wrong. What you need to do, is come to terms with your own feelings.”

Something inside her reared its ugly head, and as she fought the anger quelling up inside her, she couldn’t help but gape at him. Alas, she had never been great at controlling her anger, it’s why Tissaia had always disliked her.

Completely forgetting about the beginning of their conversation, she spat, “and what would you know about it, hm? What do you know about my feelings?”

In response, the sage forcefully reminded her, “remember that I see all threads of destiny, alright –“ interrupting himself, he turned around and took a deep breath. When he turned around to her again, Tisariel continued in a calm manner, explaining he had seen her fight with Geralt.

When he mentioned every fibre of her being fighting against the relationship, he told her that the reason for that was her already being bound to someone else by destiny. The words triggered something in the woman’s memory, breaking her out of her rage.

She took a moment to contemplate it before she absentmindedly whispered, “that’s what Tissaia said. About me being bound to someone, she didn’t say who, though.”

Looking up in confusion when as Tisariel chuckled all of a sudden, Yennefer waited for him to explain. He looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes and asked, “how could she tell you something she does not know herself yet? The only thing she can be sure of at this moment is her own feelings.”

Yennefer took a moment to absorb the meaning of his words. When she had, she pointed out that she doubted Tissaia to have any positive feelings for her, that it wouldn’t make sense.

“What do you mean, Yen? Did you not listen to her only a couple of days ago? That wasn’t the fever talking, silly girl.” Now the sorceress was torn between being baffled at his words or angry for being called silly.

Crossing her arms, she scowled at him. The sage had the good sense to only put up his hands in defence and end the conversation. It was a wise decision, seeing as Yennefer couldn’t be pushed much further this day.

Defence mechanisms would only be her downfall, that’s the overall message she got from the conversation. Deciding that she was truly sick of feeling the way she did, Yennefer drew a line and promised herself to curb those pesky mechanisms and stop running.

To completely achieve this, however, would take a frustrating amount of time. But she was willing to accept that, even if something else had to be done first. It was the reason she had come to the sage in the first place.

Uncrossing her arms, she said the sage’s name, trying to get his attention. When she had is, she suddenly felt very hesitant as she explained, “taking into consideration that you obviously implied how Tissaia and I should get together, the bond with Geralt is rather… unfortunate. So I wanted to ask if you could maybe consider breaking it for me?”

Yennefer was decidedly uncomfortable with this new concept of asking nicely. She just simply wasn’t used to it. And she knew that she never ever would try to be.

“Yes, Yennefer. I will help you, of course. It will take a week to prepare, and it will be a really painful experience, I’m afraid. Probably more so than your ascension,” he said while looking at her calculatingly.

The only response she could give him was a dismissive ‘it’s worth it’ without batting an eye. At that, the man nodded and grabbed a different book from the shelf closest to him.

Taking that as the definitive end of their rather strange conversation, Yennefer walked over to a shelf. The library was by far more extensive than her own, so she quickly found herself something interesting and left the room.

There was only one place she wanted to be, and while she had no idea how to actually get there, she trusted her instincts. It took Yennefer a while, but she stood in front of the desired double door in the end.

Taking a steadying breath, she knocked and, when she didn’t get an answer, poked her head inside. What she saw was really cute. The rectoress had apparently fallen asleep again at some point and had rolled over to her side, curling into herself.

As she entered the room, she briefly contemplated summoning an armchair but decided against it. Instead, she made herself comfortable at the end of the bed. After brushing a strand of hair out of Tissaia’s face, she leant back and began reading.

* * *

The time had gone by rather fast, and before Yennefer knew it the sun had begun to set. It was beginning to get too dark to actually read, so she huffed in annoyance and closed the book. There was enough light to watch Tissaia, and so Yennefer studied her features.

After a few minutes, she tore her gaze away from the woman and concentrated on the candles all around, speaking a quick spell to make them light up. Who needed matches, anyway? Looking back down to her book, she asked herself how interested she actually was in continuing to read the story. She quickly decided that she wasn’t, and threw it onto the edge of the bed.

The sudden movement caused Tissaia, who had still been rolled in on herself like a cat, to shift in her sleep. She stretched slightly, unconsciously placing her feet in Yennefer’s lap. The raven-haired woman, on her part, could do little but look at the sleeping form with a dumbfounded expression.

Having a good view of her face, Yennefer could see a frown edged into the rectoress’ face and she couldn’t help but wonder what she might be dreaming of. There was a slight, though uncoordinated, shake of her head as she breathed, “Yennefer.” The sorceress didn’t know what to do, but it sounded rather distressed so she should do something.

Not in a position to move, exactly, she decided that the best course of action would probably be to let the sleeping woman know that she was here. Gently putting a hand on her feet, feeling the soft fabric of the thick, woollen socks she had been given, she applied a bit of pressure and cooed, “I’m right here, with you, calm down. It’s just a dream.”

By some miracle, the woman seemed to have heard her and calmed down, her facial features relaxing immediately. Before Yennefer could marvel at that, however, there was a knock on the door and a servant came in. He put down a bowl of stew on Tissaia’s nightstand after freezing but a moment.

The man looked at her and explained that he had been ordered to assess the rectoress’ medical condition and seemingly waited for her response. Quickly nodding her head, she softly placed Tissaia’s feet on the bed again before getting up and out of the servant’s way. He was quick about it and left as swiftly as he had come, apparently assuming that Yennefer would wake her to eat dinner.

Nodding to herself, Yennefer sat down at the edge of the bed and reached out to caress her cheek, firmly saying Tissaia’s name. Curiously enough, it seemed to be working. Yennefer couldn’t help but smile at the green eyes that were fluttering open, and as soon as she realised that, she turned her head away to hide it.

Taking the big bowl of stew which was obviously meant for both of them, seeing as there were two spoons in it, she turned back to Tissaia with a neutral expression set in place. It melted away as soon as she saw a soft, glowing smile on Tissaia’s face, though.

“You came back,” whispered the brunette almost disbelievingly, and the raven-haired woman thought she saw something akin to adoration or gratitude in her eyes. Yennefer lifted a spoon full of stew, set on not letting Tissaia distract her from the task at hand. Sleeping all day seemed to have spurred on her appetite, because she did not object once.

When they both finished the stew, Yennefer set the bowl back down on the nightstand and looked at the rectoress with a contemplative look on her face. Not able to refrain from putting a hand over Tissaia’s, she mumbled, “us coming back to each other seems to be a rather regular occurrence, wouldn’t you say?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now for the bad news: I only have this ting written up until chapter 17 and it will be a while until I can seriously get back into it, so there may come a point where I'll have to go on hiatus. (They'll get to kiss before that though, I promise)  
> Thank you all for the kind comments you left me! I loved every single one of them.


	16. Seperation Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tissaia is getting well again, but Yennefer is forced to confront her past and her real feelings concerning Tissaia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to the longest chapter yet. Since it was almost 10k I considered splitting it in two, but that would've been cruel.  
> Trigger warning: There is a lost of pain and screaming in this chapter. Also mentions of abuse and poison
> 
> Disclaimer: Neither the world of the Witcher nor its characters belong to me. No profit has been made off of this and no copyright infringement was intended.

A splash of water hit Yennefer, making her gasp in shock. Taking in the soaked state of her dress, she began to scowl. The scowl didn’t hold for long when she looked up at Tissaia, who had a light smile on her face. Not even trying to hide her smirk, Yennefer asked, “since when are you this childish, Tissaia? If the chapter could see you now, what they would think.”

“They would think me mad for sitting in a bathtub, in front of you of all people, and accepting assistance with bathing. You’ll find that I usually am quite fond of independence,” Tissaia responded calmly. At another time, this would have been the moment for Yennefer to point out that Tissaia was also fond of being a stuck up bitch, but those were times when she had been hellbent on talking herself into feelings she did not have.

Or, if she truly wanted to believe Tisariel, repressing some feelings. Of course, now that she started confronting herself on her rather dysfunctional coping mechanisms, she couldn’t help but admit that she found Tissaia to be somewhat endearing. That was an understatement, of course, and also one she would not admit out loud.

She was vaguely aware of Tissaia calling her name in her usual soothing, deep voice. Slightly shaking her head to disperse her thoughts, Yennefer looked at Tissaia with a questioning gaze. Smiling softly at her absentmindedness, she asked, “I wanted to know if you were going to join me this time? Seeing as this is the third time you dragged me in here, it would only be fair, don’t you think?”

It was playful, innocent enough, just like Tissaia had been over the last four days. There was affection in her eyes, and the slightest hint of hope. The past days, Yennefer had taken up the habit of watching Tissaia closely, analysing her reactions to herself.

The two of them had spent most of the days together, with Yennefer refusing to leave unless Tissaia specifically ordered her to. It had been surprisingly easy to lay off her toxic behaviour. Decades she had spent thriving on sarcasm and cruelty, but looking at Tissaia, seeing her vulnerability, she just couldn’t do that.

Not physical, but emotional vulnerability, though. Sure, the rectoress was still weakened, but her fever was gone and she was capable of doing most things herself by now. That fact was completely disregarded by the raven-haired sorceress, of course.

She still sat at her bedside every day, reading one book or another while either having Tissaia’s feet in her lap or leaning against the other woman’s legs. Every time a meal was delivered, the woman would try to feed it to Tissaia, though the woman wasn’t having that anymore. She wasn’t invalid, and she would be damned if she allowed Yennefer to treat her like an infant.

When she tried, Tissaia would always chuckle softly, though. The brunette had changed her behaviour towards Yennefer completely over the past days, too. She was more open with her than with anyone before, and while the sorceress had never witnessed that, she had a feeling that might be the case.

Her usually distant demeanour was gone completely. In its stead, Tissaia displayed a warmth that seemed almost uncharacteristic, and yet Yennefer couldn’t help but feel as though it’s what she should’ve been like all this time. It felt natural to look at Tissaia and see the softest of smiles forming on her lips, to see her whole expression soften as her eyes were filled with warmth.

The warmth of affection Yennefer never knew she needed from the woman. It was an expression of adoration that had never been displayed openly before, and yet she couldn’t help but feel that it had always been there, to a certain degree.

Sometimes Yennefer would look up from her book to find Tissaia staring at her, lost in thought. She would always marvel at the warmth, but she soon came to notice something else in that expression too. Something small, distant. It was as though the woman let her look into her mind, let her see the small part that was telling the brunette no, she couldn’t have this, that she wouldn’t.

“So I guess that means you’re not joining me, then,” Tissaia whispered, once again pulling Yennefer from her mind. Confused, Yennefer watched as green eyes clouded with disappointment. Disappointment and… fear? Yennefer couldn’t be sure if that was the thing mingling with affection and hope so frequently.

Quickly coming back to what had been asked before she entered her mind yet again, she said, “oh! Sorry, I got lost in my mind for a second. It’s… Tissaia you know my feelings for bathing, you’ve seen into my mind often enough. Even if you hadn’t, after my time at the court in Aedirn I became kind of infamous for refusing to enter water with others around. You know how it tends to distort the perception one can have. You know of my issues, please stop pushing me about them.”

Nodding gloomily, Tissaia took the soft sponge out of Yennefer’s hand and finished washing up. There were some things she hadn’t allowed the raven-haired woman even when she had been weak, and she was not changing that.

Just because the last few days had gone great didn’t mean that Tissaia had any illusions about Yennefer suddenly returning her feelings. She wasn’t that naïve and, quite frankly, she was surprised that the woman was still here. Had she followed her usual pattern of behaviour, Tissaia was sure the other would still be hiding from her in the woods and run as soon as the elven sage had solved her little problem regarding that blasted Witcher.

Tissaia was entirely capable of admitting that her hateful feelings towards the witcher might be hasty and unjustified, seeing as she had never really met the man. True, she had run into him once or twice when picking up a child that had had a conduit moment, she had known who he was. But she had never stopped to actually interact with him. Why would she have? He was a witcher and she had had no monster that needed taking care of.

The rectoress didn’t know him, therefore she felt she shouldn’t judge him. Wanting Yennefer was a completely understandable thing, there were no two ways about that. However, getting a djinn to bind them together? The gal of that man was astounding, she had to give him that. And to keep it a secret from Yennefer was unwise enough that she was actually astounded at the fact he was still breathing.

Slowly getting out of the bath and drying herself with a towel, she had her back turned to Yennefer, thinking back to a conversation they had had the day before. The sorceress had told her all about the situation with Geralt, had even gone far enough to talk to her about how all that had made her feel.

It had made her feel so filled with love and affection that she could have burst on the spot. Yennefer actually expressing her feelings in her presence without holding them back was a major display of trust that Tissaia didn’t even know existed between the two of them.

Trying as hard as she might, she couldn’t help but fear the moment when that would change. Thousands of possible scenarios of Yennefer snapping back to her old self had replayed themselves over and over again in her mind. Shaking her head, she tried chasing the offensive thoughts from her mind yet again as Yennefer handed her a dress.

Smiling softly at the other woman, she got dressed and took the offered arm, pretending to lean on Yennefer as they walked. Both of them knew that she pretended, but Tissaia liked being close to her and she was willing to take anything she could get as long as possible. Who knew when it would be over.

The two of them sat at the small table that had been brought to her room and began digging into dinner. As always, Yennefer made a grab for Tissaia’s spoon first, but the brunette playfully slapped her hand away. There was a mischievous glint in Yennefer’s eyes, but she let up after that, not keen on an argument.

When Tissaia set down her spoon and leant back in her chair, she breathed out contently and briefly marvelled at how domestic all of this felt. Gaze landing on Yennefer, she felt her usual anxiety bug her, but she ignored it, instead focusing on the fact that the raven-haired woman was already looking at her. There was an intent look in her eyes, almost as though she was trying to figure her out.

That was a gaze she had been subjected to whenever the sorceress had looked at her the past few days. Up until now, Tissaia had never commented on it because it felt like it wasn’t her place, but now that she was looking at Yennefer all lost in thought – for the tenth time this day – she couldn’t help but ask her what was going on.

Yennefer furrowed her brows as if to figure out what to say, or how to say it. After a long moment of deliberation, she asked Tissaia, “I don’t mean to overstep, but… what are you scared of, Tissaia?”

The question caught the rectoress off guard. Usually, Yennefer wasn’t one to ask such things, not even indirectly. To buy herself some time, the brunette averted her eyes, trying desperately to come up with an excuse. When none came to mind, she settled for the truth, saying, “I guess I’m simply dreading the day you decide you have had enough of this. Do not take this personal, Yen… it’s just that you aren’t exactly known for your enthusiasm about commitment. So what I’m trying to say is that I’m probably just waiting for the moment you realise that… this is not what you want, for you to turn your back on me and never want to see me again.”

It was Yennefer’s turn to be caught off guard. Reverting back into herself, Tissaia watched as she presumably tried figuring out what to say. This time, the rectoress decided to let her take her time instead of interrupting. Rushing Yennefer was never a particularly good idea.

“I’m sorry, Tissaia,” the whisper made her heart sink, though she didn’t know why. It’s not like she had expected a reassurance. Yennefer looked at her with the most sincere look on her face that she had ever seen and said, “you know I can’t make promises. It just wouldn’t be fair to you and you deserve better than that. As you said, I’m not known for my commitment, and I’m going through some things. I don’t know where this will end, Tissaia, and I’m sorry for that.”

The rectoress nodded at her words, not needing to give an answer. The sorceress in front of her was right and she knew that, so there was no use in affirming her words. It would be a waste of time, frankly put.

It had gotten quite late, so both women agreed that it was a good time to go to bed and let the conversation come to an end. Neither of them said the last part out loud, of course. Yennefer made sure Tissaia was comfortably settled into bed before checking her temperature one last time and going off to her own room.

* * *

The day before the ritual, Tissaia sent Yennefer away after lunch, saying that she should get some rest before the ordeal. After opening up, the raven-haired woman had told her about parts of her conversation with Tisariel, specifically about what would happen the next day.

A book in her lap, she sat by the window, looking outside, observing the forest line. At some point she had actually read the book, but at this point, she gave up on it completely. The dangerous ritual was weighing too heavily on her mind, and as an expert on magic she was all too aware of the things that can go wrong. Horribly wrong.

When a knock sounded on her door, she turned her head and told the person to enter, surprise settling in as she realised that it was Tisariel. The rectoress placed the book aside and got up to incline her head respectfully. There was always a time and a place for decorum, and this was it, seeing as elven sages were normally very keen on formal behaviour and usually easily insulted.

“Please, Tissaia, take a seat. I’ve only come to see how you fare,” he was kind, though she could see in his eyes that he genuinely appreciated the gesture. Following his instructions, she took a seat again and patiently waited for him to sit too before assuring him that she felt just fine.

Releasing a thoughtful grumble, he considered her for a moment before telling her, “that’s very good indeed. When this whole bond business is over and done with, she will certainly need you by her side, Rectoress de Vries. What lies ahead of her requires both balance and control, and I think you and I both know that she is lacking in both departments.”

Taken aback, Tissaia stared at the man for a few seconds. His words gave her reason to believe that he knew less about Yennefer than he had led her on to believe, seeing as he seemed to think she would stay with her after the ritual.

“Please, voice your concerns freely, Rectoress,” he rasped with a smug look on his face as Tissaia mentally cursed herself for forgetting about his little gift. Talking to someone who knew everything – including somebody’s thoughts – was a challenge on the best of days.

Taking a deep breath, she momentarily let her eyes wander as she tried to come up with a good formulation of her feelings. As she looked back at him, the glint in his eyes told her that he already anticipated her words as she said, “with all due respect, but I do not believe that Yennefer will stay after the bond is broken. Based on her decisions leading up to this moment, I actually suspect that she will be gone within five days from now.”

The elf chuckled at that, replying that they would see whether she turned out to be right or not. He also made the point that Yennefer would need her help in the future, especially when dealing with Ciri.

Tissaia froze up as she processed his implications. The man clearly expected Yennefer to stay with her – long term. He also seemed to think that she would willingly accept any sort of help from the brunette, which was laughable in itself, but that wasn’t even the most ridiculous thing about all of that.

“Ciri? As in the lion cub of Cintra? Surely you are joking. The child is bound to the witcher by destiny, I do not see how Yennefer ties into this after the bond is removed?” Her voice was low, almost as though she feared someone overhearing them, which was irrational.

“Let’s not dwell on that just yet, you’ll see about that soon enough. You can trust me when I tell you that she will stay with you, though. Yennefer cares about you, Rectoress,” he said with an air of mystery surrounding him. Tissaia did not like being out of the loop, but she guessed that’s normal when dealing with someone who is burdened with infinite knowledge.

Still, she decided to refuse to acknowledge his words. In the most respectful way possible. Tissaia defensively inquired whether he had actually met Yennefer. It was completely unlike her to get defensive over somebody saying positive things about Yennefer, and yet she felt more than reluctant about getting her hopes up.

Tisariel nodded, got up and looked out the window with a contemplative look on his face. Standing next to her, he put a hand on her shoulder in what Tissaia assumed was a comforting gesture, though she was unsure how to feel about it.

Looking at her intently, he implored, “yes, I know Yennefer. She may hide it well, but she is working on her issues, and she cares about you. And she has for a while, judging by Filavandrel’s report of your journey to us.”

The memories of them getting to the sage’s manor were still hazy. Cocking her head to the side, she asked, “what? Forgive me, my memory seems to have a few gaps. Would you care to fill me in?”

“According to the King of the elves, she was furious when his scouts brought you to her. The whole way here, Yennefer would refuse to leave your side for more than two minutes every two hours, and she refused to let anyone near you. Filavandrel was glad when she let him help get you up on the horse, but otherwise she was too protective of you. So I’m telling you to wait and have a little faith.” Tissaia turned her head by the end of his speech, feeling another presence approach the doors. A very familiar presence.

With her head turned, she did not see Tisariel smile for a split second as he send out a pulse of magic to open the doors. On the other side stood Yennefer, a bit confused as to why the doors behaved so strangely. At least until she saw the sage next to Tissaia.

For the fracture of a second, the rectoress could’ve sworn that a fire of some sort erupted behind those violet depths. It was gone within the blink of an eye – literally – but she was sure to have seen it. Yet, with Tisariel here, she couldn’t ask what was wrong.

Eyeing the sage carefully, Yennefer approached the pair and set something down on the table. Tissaia was looking at what turned out to be a flower in a pot. Raising an eyebrow and turning her gaze back to Yennefer, she asked, “Yennefer, did you steal one of Tisariel’s Gardenias just to put them in this room?”

Her voice lacked any malice, instead displaying some sarcasm, leading Yennefer to give her a cheeky smile. Glancing at Tisariel, the raven-haired woman asked, “I hope it is okay that I borrowed one? I just thought that, since she hasn’t been out in days, she might enjoy the sight and the smell of some greenery.”

The sage said it was quite alright, and that it was good thinking on Yennefer’s part. Tisariel turned away from her, placing the Gardenias on the nightstand and giving the two women some privacy, more or less. Yennefer turned back to Tissaia and lifted her fingers up to Tissaia’s forehead, checking her temperature as she had done countless times over the last six days. “I just wanted you to have something new in here, something to lift your spirits since you cast me out,” she said softly, her fingers gliding down to her cheeks, Tissaia subconsciously leaning into the touch.

A slight smile playing around her lips, she whispered, “I really appreciate it, Yennefer, I do. But I believe I told you to go and rest for the day. You know you need your strength tomorrow, so as much as I enjoy your company, I’d like you to get out of here.” Yennefer scoffed at that.

When Tisariel told her that Tissaia was absolutely right, the sorceress sighed dramatically and threw her hands up in defeat. Stepping through the door into the hall, she looked over her shoulder, winked at the rectoress and said that she would be relaxing in the library if she changed her mind. At that, Tissaia only shook her head, telling her that she was insufferable at times.

The doors closed again and Tisariel looked at her, his expression smug once again. Curious as to why he looked at her like that, she asked what was going on. He sat down on the chair opposite to her once more and explained, “she just brought you the best smelling flowers my greenhouse had to offer, as a substitute for her company after being thrown out of your chambers. Not only that, but she also checked your temperature.”

With that, he got up and moved to the doors to make his exit. Tissaia, who did not quite grasp the situation, stopped him to point out that she had done that for the past week every day, multiple times. Turning towards her with a knowing smile, he said, “exactly. You see, Tissaia, your temperature has gone back to normal two days ago and is unlikely to come back up. Yennefer knows that, and yet she checks your temperature every chance she gets. Remember what I said, Tissaia, and have a little faith.” And then, she was alone with her thoughts once more.

* * *

The next day around noon, Yennefer found herself walking to one of the bigger courtyards. At her side, almost as if glued to it, was Tissaia. The brunette had refused to stay in her bed any longer, though Yennefer got the distinct feeling that her inner control freak was shining through and she needed to be there to make sure the ritual would be done correctly.

It was rather endearing, and she found herself fond of her company as she walked towards what could quite possibly the end of her. Cutting any kind of bond was extremely dangerous. The closest thing to it was an exorcism, and those weren’t without danger either. Tisariel had explained to her that the reason for it resembling an exorcism was the fact that, in order to bind Geralt’s and her destinies together, the djinn had to have left a part of himself imprinted on the both of them.

The sorceress had been fuming when she found out that, during the ritual, the man would be none the wiser. He was the reason why Yennefer was in this mess in the first place, and she was the only one who would suffer to correct the mistake made. If she ever got her hands on him again, she would surely make his life more than a bit uncomfortable.

First, though, she had to survive Tisariel’s ritual. The only thing keeping her from running for the hills at this point was Tissaia’s soothing touch against her arm. It was ridiculous, though. Yennefer of Vengerberg wasn’t one to be scared, wasn’t one to run for the hills. She would do this just like she had done everything else before that.

Passing through one of the doors leading to the beautiful courtyard, she was pleased to see that the sage had kept his promise. There were large screens standing around the ritual space, preventing anyone who may pass by to spy what was going on. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have been necessary, but the whole thing required her to sit in a tub, albeit a small one to prevent her from drowning.

Why she still suffered from the particular insecurity of her body being distorted by treacherous water was beyond Yennefer. The ascension had been a long time ago, and still, she could not keep from fretting over someone seeing her body in a light that wasn’t true.

Passing behind the screens, the cursed tub came into view. It was a pretty thing, carved from marble, placed in the middle of a pentagram pattern that had been implemented in the plaster with what could only have been painstaking precision. Around it, a circle of salt had been drawn. Between the pentagram and the salt, several candles found their place, along with runestones and a few crystals. Spotting moonstone, several tiger’s eyes, and turquoises, it slowly dawned on Yennefer just how complex this was going to be.

Swallowing harshly, she turned to the sage, who was standing at a podium made of the same stone as the tub. Tisariel smiled softly and inclined his head before greeting her. With a sympathetic expression he said, “I am aware of the fact that you are quite averse to bathing in others’ presence. You can keep a dress on, of course. But, while I can stand behind a screen doing the incantation, I need someone next to you to make sure everything goes right. Of course we could always ask Filavandrel…”

All colour leaving her face, she insisted that Tissaia was surely more than fit to perform the task of making sure she wouldn’t drown. A slight vibration next to her gave away the chuckle the rectoress was trying to suppress.

Nodding with satisfaction, the sage handed Tissaia a bundle of what Yennefer guessed was mostly vervain and thyme, both useful for purification, and what was this if not the purification of her soul? He turned back to Yennefer, handing her an eyebright tincture, and said, “Tissaia will activate the third layer of the ritual circle and administer the tincture afterwards. We’re using this to make the separation easier on you. The tincture will grant you visions of your true bond, which will be beneficial to you.”

The vial held a light liquid, and while Yennefer had never been a fan of visions, she was thankful for the opportunity of potentially lessening her pain. As she approached the tub, she thought back to her ascension and how painful that had been. If this was any more painful than that, then she was screwed, big time.

Heels clicked over pavement and her head snapped up to look at Tissaia as she suddenly realised that the woman would be there for two of the most painful situations of her life. Not capable of suppressing it, she gave the woman a thankful smile. This was it, she thought. She was going soft.

The elven sage had tied some purple and white hex bags to the knobs that decorated the tub, Yennefer guessed that they were filled with a mixture of garlic, Hawthorne, mandrake, and holly. The tub itself was filled with steaming water, and the sorceress could see cinquefoil and hyssop floating around in it. For a moment, she wondered if the sage secretly planned to make a soup out of her.

Quickly dispersing those thoughts with a shake of her head, she turned one last time to make sure Tisariel didn’t see before getting into the tub. Immediately after she sat down, Tissaia lit up the wand in her hand, beginning to walk a perfect circle around her before giving it back to the sage behind the screen.

The tub was low enough for Tissaia to sit directly behind her, letting her place her arms on the rim to Yennefer’s left and right. Leaning in, the rectoress administered the tincture as she murmured, “we will get through this, Yen, this isn’t our first time trying something like this, just remember that.”

A quivering smile plastered firmly on her face, she forced a breath out of her lungs and some relaxation into her muscles. The rectoress was right, she had done this before so she could do it again. It would not be a walk in the park, but that was not what she had signed up for. Worthwhile things were never easy to achieve.

From behind the screen, the sage’s voice sounded as he recited the incantation for the ritual. It was some dialect of the elder speech that Yennefer was not capable of understanding, and it sounded very long and complex. One glance into Tissaia’s direction told her that the brunette was not catching much more than she did.

Dizziness washed over her, forcing her to let her head fall back and grind her teeth together as she fought off nausea. All of a sudden, Yennefer felt like everything was spinning. Not only that, but a burning hot sensation washed over her, made worse by the ice running through her veins.

Memories assaulted her in rapid succession, images of her abusive stepfather flying by. From that time she was thrown into the pigpen, to the time he whipped her butt so much she wasn’t able to sit for weeks after that.

The blur came to a sudden stop and Yennefer found herself in front of her old house, eyeing her father as he pushed her into the mud. Back then she thought it had been an accident but now she saw it clearly wasn’t – wait. Was she in the past?

A horse’s neigh sounded behind her and she spun around. It was indeed the past, judging by Tissaia walking up to her father. It was the exact same scene that she had lived through all those years ago, except something was different.

The two adults bartered, Tissaia securing her deal at four marks, just like the raven-haired woman remembered it. Yennefer scoffed, “pf, four marks.” It was still a sore point for her, and she was so lost in her rising rage that she startled at the vague feeling of arms tightening around her, embracing her from behind, as Tissaia’s voice sounded from the unknown, saying, “worst deal he ever made. I made sure he got what was coming to him, too.”

She pushed her anger aside and observed the situation in front of her once more. Her father was clearly disgusted with her, little surprise there, but Tissaia wasn’t actually as cold as she remembered. Having gotten to know the woman better over time, she now looked at her and actually saw that she cared about the situation. The way she looked at the man now clearly screamed disgust at Yennefer, but of course as a girl she hadn’t recognized that.

Before she could concentrate further on the whole situation, everything went black. For but a moment Yennefer felt as though she was hovering mid-air, but she couldn’t concentrate on that feeling for long, for soon her skin felt as though it had been set on fire.

At her ascension, it had only felt like someone was ripping into her with a scalpel, slicing her open. This felt like being bathed in lava directly from the pits of a volcano. She squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to push some of the pain away, but to no avail. This type of pain was merciless.

As much as it burned, it also felt like something was tearing her apart. It was as though something had taken hold of her, sticking to every inch of her skin, and pulled. Had she been able to think logically in this very moment, it would have occurred to her that that was not what was happening. But she wasn’t able to, the pain made sure of that.

Yennefer was vaguely aware of the fact that she was screaming. That she was moving, most likely thrashing about to find a way to escape the pain. There was an odd, cool sensation on parts of her skin. Separate, both starting around her upper arms, but one led to her stomach while the other cooled the skin just above her heart. It was a small relief of pain, in the grand scheme of things, but it grounded her somewhat.

The pain ebbed away until it was only a droning sensation in the back of her mind, the pull reduced to a feeling of discomfort. Not questioning what was going on, she used the reprieve to catch her breath. As she gasped for air, desperate to fill her lungs with oxygen, she became aware of the distant voice of comforting murmurs.

She opened her eyes, noticing that the darkness had lifted. Disoriented, she took a look around. This time, she was in her old room at Aretuza. The mirror laid broken in the sink, shattered but a few hours after her arrival. Memories of anger and despair came back to her, making her wince as she realised what she was here to see.

Her eyes immediately fell on Tissaia when she turned. Tissaia, who was currently taking care of the wounds her younger self had inflicted upon herself. Grimacing slightly, she subconsciously touched the scars that were still on her left wrist. Often she had wondered whether Tissaia had done her a favour or a disservice when she saved her, but now there was no doubt in her mind. She owed the woman.

Awe filled her as she watched the rectoress magically clean the bloodstains out of both their clothes. This vision was more interesting to her, purely because she hadn’t been awake for the situation the first time it had happened. It surprised her that Tissaia lifted her up as though it was nothing, just to lay her into her bed carefully. The rectoress had always seemed larger than life, but that didn’t mean that Yennefer had any illusions about the fact that she wasn’t actually tall, no matter what kind of high heels the woman sported.

The brunette looked down at her unconscious form for a long moment before sitting down next to her on the edge of the bed. It was a strange image indeed. During her time at Aretuza, especially during the beginning, Tissaia had never shown her much affection. Looking at her intently, Yennefer noticed regret and a hint of affection in her expression, and suddenly it hit her. She had been kind, the very next morning as she told Yennefer that she would patch her up. She had be stern, yes. But she had also said that she would take care of Yennefer, and she had kept her promise.

A hand found its way to a strand of hair that had fallen into the unconscious Yennefer’s face, brushing it away with delicate fingers. The gentleness in itself was shocking enough for Yennefer to see, but nothing could prepare her for what she was about to hear. There, at the edge of the bed, Tissaia sat watching over her, whispering in a strangely thick voice, “I’m sorry, child. This wasn’t meant to happen.”

With that, Yennefer knew. From one second to the next it became painfully clear to her that Tissaia never hated her, that she had always wronged the woman by even thinking that. Seeing the expression on her face, Yennefer knew that the rectoress had not only not hated her, but she had also never viewed her as a useless, ugly monster, no matter how often she called her piglet.

At the back of her mind, the droning grew stronger again, and the pulling intensified as well. She whimpered, “no, no no no!” Something told her that she had been naïve not to have expected the pain to return, seeing as the visions seemed to show her Yennefer’s own past and it barely even started. As she scolded herself mentally, she knew she began screaming again, feeling her throat beginning to grow sore.

The pulling sensation was stronger than before, and therefore more painful, but at least the feeling of being drowned in lava had lessened in comparison. As much as she wanted to feel thankful for that, she couldn’t, because there was a new kind of pain. One that felt as though her heart was stabbed with a giant needle.

It stood in stark contrast to the scorching heat her skin was subjected to, because while it felt as sharp as a needle, it might as well have been an icicle. All those years of shutting her feelings away, and yet her heart had never been this cold. This dead. All emotion had left her. Hate, indifference, love, joy, all of it was gone.

The amount of pain made her feel sick, and just as she thought that she couldn’t take it anymore, it lessened. Greedily she took gulps of air like a fish on land, yet again desperate for oxygen. Scared of the amount of pain she felt, she distantly remembered the grounding sensation and came to the conclusion that it had to have been Tissaia. Still not able to see, she frantically brought her hands up the spot over her heart, clutching the hand that was there, here own wandering to hold onto the woman’s lower arm, reassuring herself that she wasn’t a product of her mind.

There was just enough time for her to feel the hand squeezing hers before the next vision emerged. It didn’t take her long to realize she was standing in the greenhouse at Aretuza, even though it was shrouded in darkness.

Her younger self stood at one of the desks, flower in hand as she recited the incantation to let the stone hover in the air. Vaguely she remembered the events of that night, so she turned only to find Tissaia standing right next to her. She had her gardening sheers in hand and seemed as though someone froze her. Yennefer suspected that she had stopped moving to prevent her apprentice from seeing her.

Yet again the brunette surprised her as her expression softened and green eyes were filled with a warmth that she had never shown Yennefer during her time at Aretuza. Looking back, Yennefer wasn’t actually mad about that. She had turned out alright, after all, and she wouldn’t want to be anyone else at this moment in time.

The warmth in her eyes transformed into pride as the stone actually did as told, and Yennefer couldn’t help but wonder what the brunette was thinking. Remembering that she was, in fact, a sorceress now, she decided to try and read the rectoress’ mind. Physically, she wasn’t really there, so Tissaia shouldn’t have any mental shields against her.

It took her a second, but she eventually managed to hear the other think, “that’s it, girl. We will make something great out of you yet.” An unbidden smile found its way onto her face. If she got out of this alive, she definitely owed Tissaia an apology. All this time the brunette had believed in her, and she was busy hating on her. What a waste of time.

The room began to fade out, but before she could brace herself for another wave of pain, she registered colours rushing by, much like they had at the beginning of the ritual. This time, when they stopped, she found herself in the shadows of Tor Lara, Tissaia next to her yet again.

Studying her, she noticed an almost pleading look on her face. Yennefer wondered what was going on when she heard it, her own voice. She turned in horror to see herself, talking to Istredd. Quickly she turned to Tissaia again, not needing to actually hear or see herself making the greatest mistake of her life.

Though it was interesting to see that the rectoress was so obviously in despair over her stupidity. At the same time, however, she was mortified that the rectoress might have seen her and Istredd, as much as she would’ve loved to know that as a child, she was mortified now.

When Tissaia turned to leave and the scene didn’t fade, Yennefer was confused. Was she supposed to stay there or follow the rectoress? Not that she wanted to be reminded of Stregobor’s boy. It really was not a question who to stay with, and so she followed Tissaia to her office.

There, time accelerated until young Yennefer had come and gone from the office again, leaving Tissaia to go and get the girls that hadn’t made the cut. On that way, Yennefer observed her closely, clearly seeing signs of Tissaia’s inner conflict.

The sorceress furrowed her brows when she saw the brunette come to a stop in front of her room. She hadn’t knocked on her door that night, Yennefer knew that because she had to steal after her when she thought she wouldn’t get to ascend after all.

“I can’t. I can’t do that to her, shit,” murmured the rectoress. Violet eyes almost popped out of her sockets. She could probably count the times she heard Tissaia de Vries swear on one hand, and that only because this was the first time. Tissaia didn’t swear. At least not to her knowledge, so the outburst was shocking.

Can’t do what, though? Turn her into an eel? Had that been the original plan Tissaia had, despite the fact that she had succeeded in the task given to her? Actually, given her stubbornness and her impulsiveness back then, she couldn’t even blame her for thinking about it. Letting her ascend was highly irresponsible.

Darkness bled into the scene, taking Yennefer by surprise. This time, the pain didn’t grow slowly, but hit her like a punch in the gut. The burning was now not on the outside anymore, but on the inside, concentrating on her stomach and joints.

The pulling sensation was double as bad as the last time, and Yennefer got the feeling that it was there to pull something out of her rather than ripping her skin off. Screaming as loud as she could, not that she could control that at this point, she opened her eyes.

There was a string of light – no, two strings – leaving her body. The sorceress had heard about soul therapy and how it was supposed to be tied to destiny, but she had never actually seen a soul. It was a glow emanating from her body, but instead of being somewhere between black and white as she had expected, but red.

Colour was quite plausible, seeing as there was no such thing as purity when it came to souls. Souls were energy, and energy was just energy. It wasn’t good or bad, it just _was_. There was, however, a layer underneath her red light, one that polluted the brilliance of it. Had she been in any less pain, she would’ve deduced that this layer was the pollution left behind by the djinn. In other words it was the reason for her to need a purification and exorcism ritual in the first place.

The strings were quite different from each other. One had a purely white core, and it was leading to somewhere behind her, the colours red and blue twirling around it, lighting up in a beautiful purple whenever they crossed one another. The other string, however, had a dark grey core with dark spots, red and orange dancing around it erratically and seemingly dodging each other like the plague.

In her pain, Yennefer didn’t notice that the one with the orange colour was significantly thinner than the other one, but she did figure that those were probably the bonds Tisariel had been talking about.

An icy sensation washed over her and she gasped in shock as her body froze automatically. The pain was gone, she noted with a hint of satisfaction, though she could still feel the echo of the pain reside in her body.

She was still gasping when the darkness lifted and she found herself thrown into another situation. Quite aware of the fact that nobody saw her anyway, she collapsed onto her knees and leaned against the next best object. Vaguely hearing a rather annoying voice, she looked up and was confronted with Stregobor’s ugly mug.

Slowly, the fact that she was in a circle of chairs registered, and that she, herself, was leaning against a person rather than an object. Of course, with her look, she turned and looked right at Tissaia. At this point, she didn’t even mind and didn’t move away, because out of every member of the Chapter, Tissaia was her favourite by now.

The meaning of the sorcerer’s words slowly sunk in and Yennefer realised that this was the meeting in which Tissaia had been forced to accept the fact that her apprentice would not go to Aedirn. Now that she actually saw the shock and despair written so plainly on the brunette’s face, Yennefer felt a whole new level of hate for Stregobor. The next time she saw him, she’d transfigure him into some figurine and put it on – or in – her fireplace.

After watching Tissaia fighting the chapter on the decision, arguing that it was a bad idea, the scene changed. There was just enough time for the raven-haired woman to notice her younger self running from the office, leaving Tissaia standing in the middle of it, an expression of sorrow and affection painted all over her beautiful face.

The door slammed close and Tissaia squeezed her eyes shut. It almost felt as though she was intruding as she had never actually seen Tissaia this vulnerable. Or maybe she had and had been too stupid to see it, who knew. Not only that, but the rectoress also mumbled an apology yet again.

Just as she wondered whether she could speed the visions along so as to not embarrass anybody any further than necessary, she found herself in the next situation. And it was worse than what she had just had to witness. It was in the middle of her ascension.

Yennefer heard herself scream in agony and wondered whether she looked anything like that right now, even though she knew that she wasn’t screaming right now, as the pain was just a slight pull in the background. The sorceress became aware of Tissaia, who was holding her despite the bleeding caused by the transformation.

The brunette shushed her, murmured encouragements, and apologies over and over again. All of a sudden, Yennefer remembered why Tissaia had done her transformation in the first place. It had been because the rectoress had felt the pain of Yennefer’s uterus being removed. She had said it herself, they shared a connection. Now that she remembered that, Yennefer felt stupid for leaving Aretuza in the first place.

The sorceress knew what would come next, for there was only one thing there could be. The ball. And so she found herself standing next to Tissaia, half-heartedly listening to a conversation of court affairs before she turned to the doors that were yet to open. She knew it was mere seconds before her entrance, but why was Tissaia looking ahead of time? Had she felt her coming?

She must have, based on the shocked yet sombre expression in her eyes. By now, she was convinced that Tisariel built in some details into the ritual she hadn’t mentioned. There was no way she’d be able to read Tissaia so clearly under normal circumstances, but she was willing to take it. Anything to get a break from the pain.

A side-effect of that, though, was that she now had to watch herself being cruel to Tissaia and hurting her even more than going to Aedirn was already. In this moment, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit of self-loathing.

Had she known that the pain would start again next, she would’ve taken a few extra minutes of watching herself being a total cunt. This time it was different, too. It still felt as though something was ripped out from inside her, but the burning was gone. Although she wasn’t too sure how she felt about that, seeing as it was replaced by the feeling of her lungs filling up with water, making it impossible for her to scream as she was gulping for air she probably didn’t need.

The orange bond, the one binding her to Geralt, had lessened considerably in strength, which she couldn’t see because she was too focused on feeling as though she was drowning. Another thing she missed was the polluting layer slowly being pulled from her soul as the purification took hold.

To her, it felt as though it took ages, even though it was probably mere minutes until the next vision started. This vision was way shorter than the last ones, as it was basically a summary of the almost fifty years that Tissaia had kept the Chapter off her back. Once, she even faked a political disaster in Toussaint in order to make that happen. It made Yennefer question why she obviously had feelings for her all this time and yet left her to her own devices for half a century before being sent after her to talk some sense into her.

Of course, that had failed catastrophically. She’d have to have a conversation with Triss on boundaries and a conversation with herself about hurting beautiful women who only wanted the best for her even if she decided to be difficult all her life. Yennefer had treated her with nothing but disrespect, and yet Tissaia had made an effort to convince the Chapter not to go after her, even if that only worked because they thought she had died in an explosion caused by the djinn.

Little did they know that the djinn only polluted her soul, and even that was being fixed. With a fresh wave of pain, though. Her lungs didn’t feel like they were filled with water anymore, but in exchange for that, they were on fire, as was her body, again. If she had had any strength left to scream, she would have. But all she could do is wince and hold on to the cool sensation of Tissaia’s arms around her.

The next time she was granted a break from the pain she found herself back in Sodden. That soured her mood considerably, seeing as she never wanted to see that blasted hill ever again. Angrily, she looked around, wondering where Tissaia was before looking down and remembering that they had slept on top of each other that night.

Since she had fallen asleep at some point, she hadn’t noticed how fondly Tissaia looked at her whenever she was awake, or how she brushed stray hairs out of her face. The amount of affection hidden behind those green depths made her swallow in realisation.

Regret filled her yet again when she saw the worried look on Tissaia’s face when they fought about her position on the tower. Looking back now, it wasn’t even that big of a deal, but she just had to blow it out of proportion, again. Yennefer just had to go and hurt Tissaia, again, just before an important battle which they could have lost because of her pettiness.

Confusion settled over her as Tissaia walked right out of the stronghold and into the woods after bringing her best friend back to relative safety. Following her dutifully, she silently cursed her for not staying in the safety of the keep as there was absolutely nothing out there for her.

Except she suddenly understood that this wasn’t about safety for Tissaia anymore. After being insulted by the woman she loved, as Yennefer finally accepted, she looked defeated. Knowing her, the only thing she cared about now was keeping her girls safe, not just Yennefer, so she met with Fringilla in the woods. That alone made Yennefer’s anger rise. What had the woman been thinking to go there without backup?

The interaction caught Yennefer’s interest, as Fringilla was just as evenly cold with the rectoress as she had been hot-headed while talking to her in her head towards the end of the battle. And then something happened. Something that Yennefer saw coming, seeing as she was good at deception and unfair tricks as well.

“NO,” she yelled hoarsely as she stepped between Tissaia and Fringilla, willing to take the Dimeritium instead of the brunette. Sadly, she wasn’t there physically, so there was nothing she could do. Nothing but watch as Tissaia was left alone to suffer under the poison that cruelly worked its way through her system. It was painful to watch her like that, even more so than the pain inflicted upon herself.

Awe and disbelief filled her when Tissaia got up after receiving a message from her slightly younger self. The woman had only come back to the battlefield because she had asked for help because she had made known that they were in dire need of assistance. She had tortured herself to get back, in the full knowledge that she probably couldn’t access any of her chaos.

Tears made their way down her face without her giving them permission to, and yet she didn’t mind. There was nobody here to judge her, so who cared if she cried at the prospect of potentially losing Tissaia? At least now she understood that emotion she had looked at her with when telling her to forget the bottle.

Yet again the events fast-forwarded, and she saw Tissaia being back at Aretuza, being told that Yennefer was dead and yet refusing to believe it just for her to go on a hunt for the raven-haired woman. She disapproved of how much she pushed herself to keep going with a total disregard of her own health. Seeing how she treated herself in Yennefer’s absence made her think that the woman should never be left without her supervision ever again. And maybe she wouldn’t be.

Soon she found herself in her own home in Vengerberg, watching as Tissaia tried – and failed – not to make a mess of things. The feeling of her intruding came back as soon as the meltdown Tissaia had in her home began, and she didn’t know what to do other than respectfully look aside.

In the end, Tissaia collapsed in her bed, snuggling into her bed in the most adorable fashion. When Yennefer saw that, she was overcome with a feeling that she wasn’t quite familiar with. A feeling that made her think that, yes, she would never let this woman out of her sight again. That she wanted her to sleep contently in her bed like that _every_ night from now until the day they died.

Gazing softly at the rectoress’ relaxed features, she barely noticed herself sitting on the edge of the bed until she found herself brushing hair out of her face – or at least trying to. Acceptance washed over her and, just before the next wave of pain hit, she whispered, “ _oh._ Fuck. I love her.”

The pain was more intense than anything before that. Her lungs were on fire but also felt like they were filled with water again while her skin was back to being on fire. Ice ran through her veins as the icicle stabbed through her heart once more, and the ripping sensation reached its peak.

The bond between her and Geralt had grown so weak that it gave out under the strain of the Ritual, and the polluting layer was completely gone by now. When the offending bond finally snapped, a last, intense wave of pain crashed over Yennefer and she lost her consciousness.

She did not lose it for long, it appeared, for when she woke up, she was still in the courtyard. Confused, she squinted against the sun, trying to figure out where she was. When she blacked out, she knew she had been in the tub, but now she was beside it.

Distantly, she heard a frantic voice calling out to her, chanting her name over and over again. With unfocused eyes, she tried to look around and make out Tissaia. That’s who the voice belonged to, she knew that. It couldn’t be anybody else, though Yennefer wondered why she was so distressed.

“What have you done, Tisariel? She is hardly breathing!” Oh, that. Yennefer had to admit to herself that she was rather weak at this particular moment. Her sight cleared and she watched Tissaia shout at the elf, there were tears in her eyes. Why was she crying?

Because she thought Yennefer was dying… oh. That explains it. But Yennefer was alright and, judging by how she was feeling, that wouldn’t change in a while. Looking at the rectoress, though, awoke the urge of calming her down. Yennefer remembered the memories she was shown quite well, and she also remembered the feeling she had when observing them all.

At this very moment, she knew she was ready to allow herself to feel. Freely and with no bounds. One little thing was steadily on her mind, though. There was one thing she needed to know, something Tissaia had mentioned at the battle. So she reached out, straining to get her arm to do as she wanted it to, and softly touched Tissaia’s cheek.

The woman, who had lifted her out of the tub and now provided a pillow for Yennefer’s head in the form of her lap, startled at the soft but sudden touch. Wide-eyed she looked down, shocked to see Yennefer awake again.

Concentrating on the brunette took all her strength, for now, so she did not see Tisariel walking around, putting out candles and picking up runestones and crystals. Even if she had, it would have been irrelevant to her. All that counted right now was Tissaia, who whispered, “Yennefer, you’re… you will be alright, I swear.”

Feeling that there was little strength left in her, she decided on saying the essentials, hoping that the woman would get what she wanted to say. Hoarsely, she murmured, “even if you were a beauty, still no one would love you.”

Her voice had faded out towards the end, but her hopes were fulfilled as she saw Tissaia’s eyes grow wide with realisation. Green eyes snapped up, looking around somewhat helplessly before connecting with tired, violet depths again. With a quiver in her voice, and just before Yennefer passed out again, she insistently said, “no one would love you the way you need, Yennefer. But please, I want to try, because I believe we could do this, and I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again - thank you for your wonderful comments, I enjoyed reading them very much!


	17. Pouring Your Heart Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yen wakes up and has a little heart to heart with Tissaia - maybe they get their shit together this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the last chapter for now. Idk when I will get to write again, but it won't be before next Thursday, so I'd like to apologise in advance for any missed upload dates.  
> Disclaimer: Neither the world of the Witcher nor its Characters belong to me. No profit is made from this and no copyright infringement was intended.

A nightmare plagued Yennefer’s sleep, making it impossible to actually rest up. Vivid images of Tissaia’s suffering haunted her, reminding her of what happened. There was no escaping it. Until she woke up, that is.

When she did, her eyelids were heavier than ever before. Even heavier than they felt after her first night at Aretuza. Just like the morning after that, Tissaia was by her side when she awoke. This time, however, she was seated next to her, holding her hand. Green eyes stared straight at the wall, unseeing.

Tissaia was lost in thought, so deep that she didn’t notice that Yennefer was awake, and the sorceress couldn’t help but wonder where her mind had wandered off to. In the hopes that she wouldn’t startle the woman, she gently squeezed her hand.

Despite her best efforts, the woman still startled, but at least she wasn’t shocked enough to jump away from her. Tissaia turned to look at her, and as her eyes went wide in realisation, she pulled her hand away from Yennefer.

“I’m sorry, Yennefer. I shouldn’t have,” she said in a rough voice, almost sounding as though she hadn’t spoken in days. In response, Yennefer flashed her an insecure smile, attempting to figure out what caused her to apologise.

When she said that she had nothing to apologise for, that she, in fact, liked the feeling, as it lessened the loneliness, Tissaia said, “still. You aren’t awake enough for me to just do that. There is no justification for me to do anything inappropriate.”

Inappropriate. Yennefer had to laugh heartily at that. With her newfound perspective, it was hard not to see the irony in the situation. Decades she had spent being inappropriate in a sense of being cruel, and now Tissaia feared being inappropriate in a sense of being too affectionate.

So much time they had wasted, Yennefer because she was too stubborn to lower her walls and Tissaia because of her pride. Right then and there, she decided that it was enough. As she stretched her hand towards Tissaia in an inviting gesture, she asked, “do you really want us to waste another few decades?”

Hesitantly, Tissaia took her hand again and looked at her with a wondering expression. She cleared her throat, eyes flickering to the side for a moment before she whispered, “no, I don’t want that. Yennefer, the sage… he said that your eyes have been opened during the ritual, but he refused to tell me what he meant. Can you tell me?”

Taking a deep breath, Yennefer steeled herself for the following conversation. It wouldn’t be the easiest. She could just rattle off the visions she had and be done with it, since she was sure Tissaia wouldn’t push her to go deeper than that, because that wasn’t who Tissaia was. The problem was that they needed to talk about something, and Yennefer owed her an apology, at the very least.

“Well, about the ritual. You’ve obviously been there for the pain part of it all, and I want to thank you for that. There were times where your touch or even your voice really grounded me somewhat. It did open my eyes. Not because it was painful, but because it took me on a journey. A journey through my past. Our past,” she explained, eyes never straying from Tissaia’s.

When the brunette nodded her understanding, she continued, “the first thing I saw was our first meeting. Every scene I saw gave me a new perspective than the one I had. A neutral one. But I also saw how you take care of me after I tried to kill myself. Suffice to say, I am grateful for everything you did for me. And I know all of it now, Tissaia. You did so much for me, thank you, I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“Silly woman,” Tissaia chided, “I’d do it all over again, never doubt that.” A squeeze of her hand was probably meant to reassure Yennefer, but all it did was make her feel more guilty. Oh, how much they needed to have a talk about the things she did.

“I am not silly, Tissaia.” Her tone of voice was soft yet insistent, and the rectoress refrained from arguing with her. Clearing the lump in her throat, Yennefer explained, “I saw how you watched me from the shadows, both when I first lifted the stone and when I was stupid enough to tell Istredd about my secret. And I saw how you held me during my ascension. Not only were you not obligated to do that, but you also apologised. Why? And why did you never insist that I stay when you clearly already felt a bond between us?”

Yennefer didn’t feel lost, per se. It was more the frustration of not knowing the woman’s motivations that spurred her on, making her ask these questions. When Tissaia had to think about how to answer them, she wasn’t surprised. Their communication up until now had been more than lacking, so how was she supposed to know how to talk to Yen?

“I apologised because I was – and still am – of the firm opinion that you deserved better than going through that amount of physical pain after all your family put you through already.” It came out as a whisper, as though she was not wholly ready to admit it in the first place. Memories put a sheen over her eyes as she asked, “would it really have made you stay with me, Yennefer, if I had insisted?”

Those words hit her in like a punch in the gut because she knew that, no, she wouldn’t have. In fact, she probably would’ve tried to get out of the school even quicker than she had already. Looking back now, she regretted leaving the place without having the decency of saying goodbye, at least. Unfortunately, it was too late to change any of it.

“I suppose not. I was an ungrateful brat back then, after all.” She cast her eyes down in shame, not wanting to meet the green eyes that were so full of affection now. In this particular moment, she didn’t feel as though she deserved even an ounce of that affection.

Deciding that she had to continue with her story, Yennefer got over herself and looked at her once more, whispering, “you held the brotherhood off my back all those years. Every time Stregobor tried to go up against me, either you or Vanielle shot him down. All this time you had feelings for me, and the only action you took, based on them, was defending me. Tell me, did Vanielle know?”

A tinge of sadness entered Tissaia’s eyes as she merely nodded, not adding anything in explanation. It was clear that the woman needed some form of comfort, and since she didn’t really know what else to do, Yennefer sat up and engulfed her into a tight hug, expressing her condolences.

After a moment, Tissaia’s arms encircled her waist, returning the gesture as she burrowed her face in raven locks. Neither woman spoke during this moment. Whether she was willing to admit it or not, Tissaia needed this in order to deal with the loss of her best friend. She may be several hundred years old and used to people dying around her, but that didn’t mean that the loss of her best friend didn’t affect her.

Ultimately, it was Tissaia that pulled away first, seeing as Yennefer had silently decided to force the woman into as much comfort as she could take at once. A timid smile appeared on the brunette’s face as she said, “thank you. Now, I believe you weren’t quite at the end?”

Yennefer nodded affirmatively and continued, “I remember seeing you in my house, making a total mess of things before falling asleep in my bed. Mind telling me what you were looking for? Maybe I can tell you where it would’ve been.” The sorceress didn’t necessarily feel like making the woman feel called out and close herself off in the process. Winking at her seemed like the best option in her situation.

A welcome side effect of that was that Tissaia blushed slightly. She cleared her throat and explained, “well, I was looking for a clue as to where you could have vanished off to. Since Philippa’s spies told me you never showed up, I thought you might’ve left something behind. It was the only lead I had before having to try going to the Witcher.”

“Philippa? What does she have spies at my house for?” That hadn’t been anything she had seen or been made aware of, and Yennefer didn’t like it. Not that she had ever been overly fond of Philippa, herself. The woman was far too nosy in her opinion.

Tissaia, fully aware that she wasn’t fond of Lady Owl, gave a chuckle and jested, “well maybe you did something to warrant the surveillance, who knows what she is up to?” Laughter filled the room, with both of them being fully aware that it was more than possible that Yennefer had actually somehow angered the King – or more accurately Philippa herself – during her last visit in Redania.

“So,” Tissaia said with a certain amount of hesitation, “you saw me sleeping in your bed, then. I’m sorry to have breached the privacy of your home like that, it wasn’t my place.” At that, Yennefer gently squeezed her hand as she slowly leaned back in bed. Her head was still a bit dizzy and sitting up for that long wasn’t good for her, apparently.

In a soft tone of voice, she reassured Tissaia that her being in her house was more than okay. Especially since she had obviously been exhausted from her journey there and needed her rest after the meltdown. Yennefer even took it a step further and told her that, after she had cleaned up a bit, she was welcome to sleep in her bed anytime she wanted.

When Tissaia didn’t say anything to that, Yennefer started feeling anxious. She knew that now was the time to ask the most serious question. Not quite sure how to phrase the question, she stumbled over her own words as she asked why the hell the rectoress would be reckless enough to go to Fringilla alone.

Guilt. The emotion was easy enough to read as it coloured Tissaia’s whole face. Frowning, Yennefer listened as she said, “because I was stupid? You got into my head and I thought, well… if meddling was all I could ever do, I might as well do one good thing. Protect my girls, and you, even if it was the last thing I would ever do. I was convinced that you didn’t need me anymore.”

All the colour left Yennefer’s face when she realised one crucial thing: She was responsible for Tissaia being poisoned by that wretched bitch. On instinct she shot up again, arms flying around Tissaia’s neck, pulling her into a tight hug. Overwhelmed she whispered in a wavering voice, “I’m sorry, Tissaia. You are always needed, and I should’ve never made you feel that way. Never! I’m so sorry!”

When her voice started cracking up, she stopped speaking, but she never let go of Tissaia, who simply returned the hug and shushed her. Lightly running her fingers through raven locks, the brunette said that everything was alright now, but Yennefer couldn’t comprehend how she could simply say that after all, she had gone through because of her.

Carefully, Tissaia pulled back just a bit. One of her hands steadied her upper arm while the other gripped her chin gently to forcer Yennefer to look at her. Quickly, Yennefer wiped the stray tears away that had fallen as the possibility of Tissaia’s mortality had sunk in. There was so much warmth in those green depths, more than Yennefer would’ve felt possible a week past.

“I am okay, Yennefer, I’m alive. You’ve got me,” the brunette said with a slight smile. It did nothing to assuage her guilt, however, as the memory of her own, cruel words came flowing back to her over and over again.

She barely noticed Tissaia lean in, but she sure did notice when the woman sealed the gap between them. All the conflicting thoughts came to an abrupt stop when she realised that Tissaia was indeed kissing her. Responding automatically, as though under a spell, she kissed her back.

It was the softest, most chaste kiss she had ever shared with anybody. And yet it was the most meaningful of all. Tissaia’s lips were incredibly soft, and with this short gesture, she showed Yennefer that she was okay and that, more importantly, she was forgiven so she shouldn’t dwell on it.

“Yennefer, I understand that you said those words out of anger and because you felt the need to protect yourself. All you need to do is accept that yourself now. Just… please don’t let it happen again?” There was uncertainty in her voice, and Yennefer could tell that Tissaia had enough of being hurt all the time. Hurt by the woman she loved.

A wave of determination came over her as she took both of Tissaia’s hands into her own and said, “I swear to you, Tissaia, I will never do that to you again. Hell, if I have anything to do with it, nobody else will ever make you feel like that either.”

To that, the rectoress just mumbled that they would preferably rather work on not putting Yennefer through torture again. The raven-haired woman released a chuckle and said, “you know, breaking the bond to Geralt may have been painful as fuck, but at least I got one thing out of it. The real eye-opener, so to speak, was that I saw my other bond. And even though I didn’t quite see the end of that soul bond as it was behind me, the visions were enough to show me the right path.”

“And what might that path lead you to, Yennefer?” In any other situation, Tissaia would probably not have taken the bait. This moment between them, however, was different. Not just because it was them openly talking to each other, but because they were open in the first place.

“Directly to you, of course. If those blasted visions have shown me anything, Tissaia, then that you are meant to love me the way I need to be loved, as I am meant to love you the way you need to be loved. And I do, Tissaia. I love you,” she said with conviction. This was not something she was unsure about. Not after all this time, not after so many failed attempts at finding happiness. No. The thing between the two of them was real, always had been, Yennefer had just been too blind to see it.

Deciding to push her luck a bit, she leaned in once more, reclaiming those soft lips in front of her. To her delight, Tissaia was only too willing to reciprocate the kiss. Yennefer brought her hand up to the back of Tissaia’s neck, pulling her impossibly close as she relished the taste of her lips. With that kiss, Yennefer knew that the two of them were going to be okay.

Dizziness hit Yennefer out of the blue, making her break away from the kiss. Tissaia, seemingly knowing what was going on, let her fall back into the cushions slowly as she said, “you’re supposed to be on bed rest, Yennefer. We should maybe keep that in mind. The ritual may have been yesterday, but your body needs to recover.”

Yennefer could tell that the woman was right by the way her muscles ached, and she dreaded the intensity that ache would have the same time tomorrow. Sore muscles would slow her down, not that she was in a particular hurry to get anywhere. Not when Tissaia was here, with her.

“Please don’t ever do anything so reckless ever again, Tissaia. I couldn’t… I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you now. Or at any point, for that matter.” Yennefer was quite aware of the fact that she was in no position to demand things from Tissaia, but she couldn’t refrain from asking that much. Surely not getting into trouble wouldn’t be a problem for a woman who had managed to stay alive for five centuries. A woman who was currently chuckling softly at her words.

A knock sounded on the door just as Tissaia brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Both women turned to the door, permitting entrance to whomever it was standing outside the door. Neither of them was surprised when it turned out to be Tisariel who entered.

“Ah, Yennefer, how good to see you awake again,” he said in his usual tranquil tone of voice. One of these days she would have to figure out how this man was always in a state of calmness, no matter if it was fake or not.

The two women watched as he pulled a chair over to the other side of Yennefer’s bed and sat down. They regarded each other for what felt like an eternity, and maybe it was. Tissaia could never tell with the sage, not that she had to. Now that things seemed to be cleared between Yennefer and her, she was in no rush to get anything done.

Gaze falling onto the joint hands of Tissaia and Yennefer, a knowing smile formed on his face as he said, “I see you talked it out, good. Because what I came here for requires both of you to be in a calm state of mind.”

And just like that, they were on their guard again. Not entirely sure where Tisariel was going with this, Tissaia held on to Yennefer’s hand a bit tighter. The elf chuckled, very much aware of the thoughts going through Tissaia’s head.

“Don’t fret just yet, the two of you will not be separated anytime soon. I may have mentioned this to one of you before, but let me say again that destiny has a plan for the two of you, and that plan involves you being together.” That was at least some sort of relief, though the prospect of destiny not being done with them already weighed on both of their minds.

When Yennefer asked him what kind of plans he meant, he said that it had to do with Geralt and his Child of surprise. Not liking the sound of that, Tissaia shifted uncomfortably. If there was one thing she did not like, it was the thought of seeing the man Yennefer had been bound to.

Seeing Tissaia's unease, the man smiled reassuringly and explained in a low tone, “it is clear to me that I cannot tell you what to do. You are free to do as you wish. However, I do need to warn you of the fact that defying destiny has rather dire consequences. Ignore my warning at your own peril.”

“We will not,” said Tissaia begrudgingly, looking at Yennefer out of the corner of her eyes. As someone who had managed to survive for half a millennia, the rectoress was not stupid enough to try something as reckless as defying the greatest force their world had to offer. Time and time again destiny had demonstrated its power, and humans never learned.

Hell, even that Witcher hadn’t learned in all his years. He had neglected to claim his child off surprise and as a result, all of Cintra had fallen. The horrors that man brought to the people, and just because he couldn't get his head out of his arse.

Seemingly pleased with her answer, the sage continued, “telling you what is to be would bring pain and suffering, for it may influence your decisions, so please understand that I can and will not give you the information you will undoubtedly want. All I can tell you is this: the lion cub of Cintra needs you. She needs your teachings and guidance. The child will need to be taught balance and control."

“Great, I have neither of that.” It took Tissaia a great deal of self-control not to burst out laughing at Yennefer's words. Holding back a smile at her antics proved sheer impossible. Slightly shaking her head, Tissaia told her that, in that case, it was a good thing she would be there to help with that.

The interruption did not bother Tisariel in the slightest. His gaze seemed somewhat wistful, but neither woman thought it appropriate to inquire whether everything was okay. It was none of their business, and if he wanted them to know they would.

A few seconds passed before the man got up as he cleared his throat. Putting the chair back where it belongs, he turned to Yennefer and told her that she needed a few more days of rest. After that, he would open a portal for them which would get the women close to the passage which led to the hidden valley that housed the witchers' school.

* * *

A few days turned into a week. A week in which both women spent much time with each other, speaking honest words and stealing the occasional kiss. Yennefer, of course, wouldn't necessarily have stopped there, but Tissaia kept insisting she needed rest if they were to help Ciri.

The bond the two of them shared had grown impossibly stronger, up to a point where they were almost entirely aware of what the other was doing even though they weren't looking at each other. One time Yennefer had asked Tissaia whether she had witnessed anything like their bond, but the woman had shaken her head, saying that, to her knowledge, a bond this intense was nearly as rare as golden dragons.

With that memory on her mind, she softly squeezed Tissaia's hands as they stepped through the portal Tisariel had opened for them mere seconds ago. All their goodbyes had been said, not that Yennefer thought Filavandrel and his elves would miss them very much. They had fought Nilfgaard not too long ago, after all.

Winter had fallen over the east of Kaedwen already, and gratefulness for the thick coats the sage had given them spread through Yennefer. Being out in the cold was never Yennefer's favourite activity, no matter the purpose. She didn't like the cold, even though she embodied it sometimes.

Looking around, Tissaia asked, “are you sure you know where the passage is? We wouldn’t want to get lost in this type of weather.” At that, Yennefer let out a humourless chuckle. In the past, she would have reacted with a snarky comment. And even though she still didn’t know how to properly express her feelings – just jumping Tissaia surely wasn’t an option – she had begun to reign in her sarcasm, reminding her that Tissaia never meant any harm.

With Tissaia’s hand still in her own, she moved forward with enough confidence to make her girlfriend follow her. Finding the small passage that led into the beautiful valley that housed the Witchers’ castle, Kaer Morhen, was a piece of cake for her. No matter the situation, or how much time passed, she would never forget the way to that castle. Not after having seared it into her brain, thinking that her and Geralt would have even the semblance of a chance.

Her error proved advantageous for them now. Without a doubt, Tissaia could find the passage herself, but Yennefer liked thinking that she did not have to do that. That the woman could rely on her for once.

The two of them walked in silence for a little while, making their way through the thick forest until they reached what appeared to be a cave. Before they had the chance to enter, however, Tissaia pulled them to a stop, her gaze fixated to a point between the trees. Without warning, Yennefer heard Tissaia’s voice in her head, saying, _“there is someone there, even if they are good at hiding themselves. One of your witcher friends?”_

_“Only one way to find out,”_ she sent back before shouting out, “come on, show yourself. Don’t bore us with your juvenile game of hide and seek.” Yennefer had hoped desperately to be wrong, even though she knew that Tissaia did not make those kinds of mistakes.

“Tactical hiding beats lumbering through the woods like a clumsy oaf any day, Yennefer,” came the gruff response from the bushes and a dark figure emerged. Even before stepping into the light, the sorceress could already tell that it was the witcher she liked the least. Then again, not many people like Lambert.

The tension between them was tangible. Thick enough one could almost cut it, even. Sensing the energies surrounding them, Tissaia decided not to let things escalate just yet. At least not before reaching the castle, so she intercepted, “Lambert, long time. I take it you are here for the winter as well. What brings you outside in this weather?”

“Probably looking for mushrooms in the hope of making the sauce for his ruined spaghetti edible,” Yennefer mocked, immediately regretting it when she saw the look Tissaia threw her way. Just because she reigned in her sarcasm when it came to Tissaia didn’t mean that she had that ability – or patience – with other people. Least of all smelly witchers like Lambert.

A wicked grin spread over the witcher’s face, though only on one half since the other was covered in scar tissue. Always one for a comeback, he snarked, “my spaghettis are edible, unlike the mass of goo you produced last time Geralt asked you to.”

At that, the raven-haired woman growled and pulled Tissaia along with her. Keeping this confrontation going would end badly, if not in her sending flames Lambert’s way and burning the forest down in the process. Walking away was the sensible thing to do and she damn well hoped Tissaia was proud of her for being the bigger person for once.

The way through the cave, up to the bridge to Kaer Morhen and to the gates in the passage was marked by an awkward silence. There was no love lost between Lambert and Yennefer, and the woman also didn’t trust him very much. And why should she? He was sarcastic, never seemed to take things seriously and he had this patronising air about himself that she just could not deal with on most days.

Relief washed over her when the gate was opened and Vesemir was just on the other side of it, taking care of some blades. As soon as they were through the doors, he lifted his head, surprise showing in his eyes, and asked, “Yennefer, Rectoress de Vries? What brings such fine Ladies such as yourselves to this places this time of year?”

“Destiny,” Yennefer said, deciding to test the old man’s knowledge. The knowing sparkle in his eyes told Yennefer exactly what she had wanted to know. Geralt had talked about the child. More importantly, Geralt and the child were already at the castle.

Vesemir gently set down the sword and tools as he got up, turning to Lambert, and saying, “why don’t you finish on these swords Lambert, I’ll get started on dinner. Ladies, if you would follow me, I’ll take you to our fireplace to get you warmed up while I have Coën set up rooms for you.”

Not questioning his decisions, the two women followed him. They were both knowledgeable enough to know that Vesemir was more or less the boss of the other witchers of the school of the wolf. That may or may not be connected to the fact that he was also the oldest of them, but nobody had dared make a comment on that. The dynamic just was what it was.

Tissaia tensed up as soon as they stood in the entrance to the great hall, giving view to Geralt sitting at the fireplace. Being just a step behind her, Yennefer noticed it and squeezed her hand reassuringly despite the fact that she had no idea what caused her to react like that.

Before either woman could say anything, Vesemir cleared his throat, making Geralt and Coën look up from the fireplace. As he gestured at them, Vesimir said, “as you can see, we have guests. Coën, I’d imagine that they need a place to sleep, be so kind and make rooms available. Geralt, something tells me that you might want to speak to Yennefer before certain things come to light.”

At that, the women looked at each other, each mirroring the other’s frown. Neither of them had a clue as to what the old man was referring to, but they were also not particularly eager to find out. As Geralt hummed and made a move to get out of his seat, another shadow appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

All heads turned to the new arrival, Yennefer and Tissaia quickly discerned that it was a woman. There was a sharp intake of breath as the woman with curly hair stepped into the light, staring at Yennefer with disbelief in her eyes.

Shock washed over the raven-haired woman like an ocean wave, leaving her in a stupor. She was vaguely aware of Tissaia letting go of her hand and gently placing it in-between her shoulder blades, giving her a small push towards the woman.

Lifting her hand to touch the other woman’s face, she whispered, “Triss? You’re here? Why are you…” Yennefer trailed off, looking back and forth between her best friend and Geralt. The fact that Triss was alive didn’t shock her in the least, she had been more or less fine the last time she had seen her at the battlefield. What did make her wonder, though, was that she was here. With Geralt.

Realising what the sorceress must be thinking, Triss’s eyes filled with doubt and she looked at the witcher before bowing her head awkwardly, mumbling something about leaving them be before scuffling off. The relief about her friend being alive and well was overshadowed by the apprehension Yennefer felt at the fact that she was here.

“I can explain,” Geralt started placatingly and Yennefer couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She already felt like ripping the man a new one for trying to calm her, keeping her docile. It made Yennefer wonder what she had ever seen in the man in the first place. Sure, she had been under a spell thanks to the djinn, but still. No wonder she had always felt like he was suffocating her.

Not willing to let go of control just yet, Yennefer made an educated guess, saying, “explain, you say. Explain why you hide here with a child that apparently is important and look for help in Triss rather than trying to reach me? What happened, was I too hard to reach for you?”

Her tone of voice was mocking. Whatever the man had to say for himself, Yennefer did not care and everyone in this room knew it. Instead of answering immediately, Geralt crossed his arms and huffed like a petulant child.

“Why are you here, Yennefer?” Asking this particular question was surprisingly strategic for Geralt’s standards. The man knew that making up some excuse as to why he had contacted Triss instead of the woman he bound himself to indefinitely.

A small chuckle escaped Yennefer before she put on a cold mask of indifference. With a gaze that could chill his bones, she said, “Tissaia and I are here because an elven sage told us to get to your child of surprise and guide it. Of course, he told us that after he almost killed me by breaking the abominable bond you inflicted on us with your reckless wish.”

The amount of shock on the witcher’s face was more emotion than Yennefer had experienced from him in all their encounters taken together. Completely gobsmacked, he asked, “you… you broke the djinn’s bond?”

Barking laughter filled the cold, big room. Even Tissaia couldn’t help but flinch slightly at Yennefer’s cold demeanour. Laughter slowly subsiding, Yen said, “no, you oaf. The sage broke the bond, the only thing I did was almost die in the process.”

Uncomfortably, Geralt glanced at the doorway to the kitchen. Yennefer knew that through there lay the way up to the sleeping quarters. Without looking at her, he asked, “and now? Did you come to take Ciri away?”

“Did we come to take the Lion Cub of Cintra, _your_ child of surprise, with us? No, Geralt. We came here because the sage told us that we needed to guide her. Now, we _could_ theoretically do that without you, but separating her from you would not be beneficial to any party involved, trust me. We are staying, as is Ciri,” Yennefer answered with an air of finality.

At that, Geralt only grunted unintelligently, turning back to the fire. Then, so quiet she almost missed it, he surrendered, “fine. I guess Triss could use some help with her, she is a hand full.” Sneaking a glance at Tissaia, she saw the woman discreetly shaking her head. Clearly this was a conversation that was to be had another day after they had gotten a general overview over what the girl could need guidance for.

As if on cue, Coën came back from preparing their rooms. Quickly reading the room, he decided that this was a good time to say what he had to say and get back to lounging around in one of the chairs in front of the fire. With the usual gruff voice all witchers seemed to have, he said, “I’m sorry to say this but we currently can only get one room with a double bed ready, the others are currently under renovations. The castle is in a bad state, as you know, so it will take a day or two to get another room ready. I hope that doesn’t inconvenience you too much.”

With a wolfish grin, Yennefer looked at Tissaia, her eyes twinkling with mischief before saying, “oh dear Coën, that won’t be a problem at all. In fact, you don’t need to get the other room ready at all.”

Geralt turned sharply to look at her, then at the rectoress, then at Yen again. It seemed like the man slowly connected the dots, but before he could say anything, Tissaia’s calm voice cut through the silence, “I believe that is a conversation for another day. It will be dinner time before long, and I intend on freshening up and meeting the child before then if you please.”

Without another word or a glance back, Tissaia sauntered past the two men, a grinning Yennefer hot on her heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your beautiful comments, I appreciate them all.   
> Oh, and regarding the comment of xMilaax, I'd like to repeat that the first ten chapters were mostly the happenings of the Netflix series with one or two additions from yours truly, but everything starting in chapter eleven was built from my imagination (again, spurred on by xJellyDonut's fan video 'Fear of the Water' on Youtube, if you haven't checked that out yet you really should!)  
> Now, until next time, and stay safe everyone!


	18. The Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yen and Tissaia meet Ciri, Tissaia gets a visit from Philippa while Yennefer has words with Geralt, and Lambert demonstrates his monstrous cooking skills by serving bland pasta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A word of warning: Anyone who dislikes smut, even though it is only implied in this case, might want to skip to the next division line after our ladies arrive in the bathroom (I promise nothing important happens there).  
> Also, uh, sorry for abandoning this? I didn't intend to do that. However, I also can't promise you chapter 19 anytime soon as uni is beating my ass (pardon my french).
> 
> Disclaimer: Neither the world nor the characters of the Witcher belong to me. No profit has been made from this and no copyright has been intended.

“Honestly Tissaia, I don’t know why you would need freshening up just about now, if you wanted to get away from Geralt again, you could’ve just said so,” jested Yennefer as soon as the door closed behind them. Her confident grin was only met with an eye-roll by Tissaia, who set down her bag on the bed.

When no answer came, Yennefer dropped the subject altogether. Instead, she silently walked over to her side of the bed, picking up the book that was lying on the nightstand and seizing it up. Not a remarkably interesting topic, she thought, but it might do, should the witchers not have anything better at the moment.

Upon turning around again, she found Tissaia standing right in front of her, looking at her intently. The brunette stepped closer, adamantly pushing Yennefer back until her back was against the wall. Pressing up against her, Tissaia looked deep into violet eyes and whispered, “could you honestly fault me for disliking the man that, indirectly, almost got you killed?”

Yennefer’s mind could not come up with an intelligent answer at this very moment, so she opted for shaking her head and capturing Tissaia’s lips with her own. Her hands immediately flew to the woman’s waist, pulling her impossibly close. A sigh escaped her when she felt Tissaia’s hand thread through her locks softly as she kissed Yennefer back slowly.

All too soon, Tissaia broke away from the kiss, but not from their embrace. A slight smile painted on her face, she brought her thumb up to Yennefer’s lip, carefully wiping away the smeared lipstick. Gaze fixed on Yennefer’s lips, she lowly suggested, “you know, if you didn’t wear lipstick so often, we could do that during the day.”

Unsure of how to react to that, Yennefer laughed it off and pressed another peck to Tissaia’s lips before slipping away. Painting her lips red was something she had done for decades, but if it meant getting more kisses like this, it was definitely worth the consideration, at least. Hell, she might even give it up completely.

A knock sounded on the door and Tissaia quickly turned to look out the window as she made sure that there was no red colour on her face. Chuckling slightly at her antics, Yennefer went to open the door. On the other side stood a slightly nervous-looking Triss.

“May I come in?” The question was posed with uncertainty, and it made Yennefer wonder what was going on in her friend’s pretty head. Usually, she would have approached things head-on, but in this case, Yennefer just stepped aside and meets her friend with a warm smile.

Softly, she closed the door and asked, “what can we do for you, Triss?” Before she could even get close to formulating a sarcastic comment, the curly-haired woman pulled her into a tight hug. Yennefer refrained from commenting on Triss seemingly set on breaking her ribs.

“I thought I lost you, Yen, nobody has heard from you since the battle,” Triss breathed in her ear. Leaning back slightly to look into dark eyes, Yennefer laid her hands on Triss’ cheeks in an effort to ground her. Smiling reassuringly at her, she said, “I’m sorry about that, Triss. We are both here, and we are both fine. Everything is alright.”

A broad, watery smile lit up Triss’ face and Yennefer felt her leaning into the touch as though looking for further security. At this moment, Yennefer felt a slight sense of regret at the fact that she hadn’t tried to contact anyone at all.

“Are we okay though? Last I heard, you were involved with Geralt, and now he asked me for help without even trying to reach you,” she trailed off, seemingly unsure how to finish her train of thought. Yennefer suddenly understood that this was about Geralt and that there had been a severe misunderstanding.

Throwing a careful glance at Tissaia, she saw that the woman’s shoulders were tense, though the mask through which she watched them was immaculate and showed no emotion. Putting a radiant smile on her face, Yen said, “Triss, any problems I may have are problems between Geralt and me. The only bond we may have had was forced, and there is no love lost there, so if you want him, knock yourself out. Though I advise you be careful, he has this… way about himself.”

It was a jest, one that got her a snort from Tissaia and a horrified look by Triss. At this point, Tissaia decided to step in and safe the poor woman, greeting her warmly and asking her where she had been. Triss took the opportunity of distraction and answered, “after we got you inside to the medics, I went back to look for survivors with the others. The only survivors were on the Nilfgaardian side, though, and before they were able to run me through, I teleported away to my home in Maribor. After I healed, I came here, but how are you here? You were in pretty bad shape when last I saw you.”

“With a gross amount of neglect when it comes to her own health, that’s how she is here. Dearest Tissaia, I don’t know if I mentioned it, but if you ever treat yourself like that again I will have to think of a punishment.” Yennefer’s interruption did not go unnoticed, and Triss looked back and forth between them.

There was a spark of mischief in Tissaia’s eyes, but before she could say anything regarding Yennefer’s comment, Triss had connected the dots and exclaimed, “you two… Yennefer, have you finally gotten over yourself or am I dreaming this up?”

“Yes, let’s pretend that I’m the only one at fault when one of us already knew we had a connection,” Yennefer grumbled and folded her arms. Tissaia looked at her as though she had grown a second head and countered, “better yet, let us pretend, for just a moment, that you weren’t the one actively ignoring me telling you that. Or that you weren’t the one ignoring the fact I gave you the opportunity to hide yourself with a pretty accessory.”

Wide-eyed, Triss looked at Yennefer with a pleading look. She raised her hands placatingly and said, “come on you two. No need to fight now. It took you long enough to get it together the first place, nobody could take another round of decade long pining.”

Yennefer tried really hard not to laugh at the mental image of Tissaia pining after anyone, let alone her, but she could not keep it together. The grave look her girlfriend was throwing her made it clear that she would be in trouble later, but she couldn’t help it.

“It is our way of communicating, for now, Triss, do not worry yourself. Now, shall we go downstairs and meet this delightful child everyone is so interested in?” Without waiting for an answer, Tissaia left, giving Yennefer a pleasant sense of déjà vu.

* * *

The three of them entered a courtyard where the child, Ciri, currently danced on some sort of training conception the Witchers had invented once upon a time. Lambert shouted commands and Geralt leant against a wall close by, having joined the two to watch Ciri’s progress.

Following Triss, the three of them stood next to the white-haired witcher, with Yen standing the furthest away. She knew her girlfriend didn't like the man, so she didn't have to cause her unnecessary trouble.

Their arrival had apparently shaken the child’s confidence, and she started to make mistakes that were painfully obvious even to Yennefer's untrained eyes. Lambert, who of course also noticed this, turned around to glare at them, making it known that he was not happy about the interruption of his lesson. Trust the witchers to take training overly serious, Yennefer thought.

When Ciri fell from the contraption, Lambert threw his hands up in frustration and declared the lesson was over. A flash of hurt and shame crossed the features of Ciri's face, almost as though she had wanted to impress the grumpy old man. It was also possible that such a young child was simply intimidated by his sour expression and didn't want to get in trouble.

Geralt gave a small chuckle as his friend stormed off, not paying him too much attention as Ciri turned to them with a curious look. Two new women after having been surrounded by men for goodness knows how long before Triss came along, that would interest any little girl. Quickly she bounded over to them, not refraining from openly starting at Yen and Tissaia.

Upon a pointed look from Triss, she gave a small courtesy and said, “Hello, I'm Ciri, it's nice to meet you!” Triss rolled her eyes at the clumsy introduction, clearly having expected the years of training at court to kick in in front of two sorceresses. It was Tissaia’s turn to let out a small chuckle as she lightly bowed her head and answered, “a pleasure, Princess Cirilla. My name is Tissaia de Vries, Archmistress and currently rectoress of Aretuza. This is Yennefer of Vengerberg, a powerful sorceress in her own right.”

Yennefer, also giving a slight bow of the head, used the opportunity to stay silent and observe the Princess’s reaction. Emerald green eyes lit up in recognition, leading Yen to believe that she had received extensive education on political matters of the North. That or her grandmother had spoken ill of sorceresses, as Yennefer had heard she was prone to.

A spark of worry shone in her eyes when she processed the information and finally turned to Triss. Realising what the young girl probably had going through her mind, Tissaia said, “not to worry, we're not here to replace Triss, we are just the support. I, myself, will assist her in etiquette as well as history classes, whereas Yennefer will concentrate on what she does best, causing chaos. And helping you control yours even if she refuses to control her own.”

Yennefer had to suppress a chuckle at the pointed look she received, but a grin slipped on her face despite her best efforts. To Cirilla, this went unnoticed as a smile returned to her face and she said, “I’m happy to hear that and I'm grateful for the opportunity to study under you, rectoress.” That only made Yennefer's grin widen.

Noticing the dwindling amount of professional composure, Triss jumped in and told Ciri to follow her to the kitchen to see how long it would take for dinner to be ready. When the two were out of earshot, Geralt turned to Yennefer, a nervous expression showing on his face as he asked to speak with her, alone. At that, Tissaia’s expression soured considerably, and she opted for glaring at the man.

Subtly, Yennefer turned Tissaia’s attention to the gates, giving her a pointed look. At first, Tissaia thought her girlfriend wanted her to take a walk and felt rather confused at the suggestion, but then her eyes fell towards what Yen had wanted her to see, so she yielded and said, “fine, you two go ahead, I shall stay here a while and enjoy a bit of fresh air.”

A sly grin on her face, Yen told her not to stay too long, lest she catches a cold. She gave nothing but an indignant snort as a reply. After she could be sure that the witcher was truly out of hearing range, she straightened her back as she faced the training dummy by the gate. On top of it sat an alert looking owl, eyes glittering with more intellect than a normal one would have. When the owl did not move, Tissaia raised an eyebrow and chided, “do not elude yourself, Phillipa, I’m very well aware it is you spying on us.”

The owl shook herself and ruffled her brown feathers, giving the closest impression it could of laughing before morphing into a human. In human form, Phillipa had the slightest hint of a smirk on her face. It was her usual behaviour, Tissaia thought, not showing her emotions and therefore holding her cards close to her chest, not giving away anything.

Tissaia could respect that, given that the brunette worked in intelligence and giving away the wrong thing could potentially cost Phillipa her head. Instead of commenting on it, she asked, “what brings you to this corner of the continent? Must've been a long flight.”

At that, the Lady Owl cocked her head and said, “well yes, but I had to make sure the two of you really ended up together. Goodness knows it took you two stubborn donkeys long enough. My spies saw you at Yennefer's house, after all, but they never saw the violet-eyed menace herself.”

Equally keen on not showing her cards too soon, Tissaia refrained from reacting to the comment on Yennefer and her relationship. Instead, she opted for a diversion and countered with, “And why were your spies on the lookout for Yennefer in the first place?”

The playful glint in Phillipa's eyes vanished quickly and instead, she put on her no-nonsense face. Through clenched teeth she housed, “because that precious elven sage isn't the only one aware of destiny, and if you two messed up, we would all die. At least we have a chance with the two of you united and by the child’s side. Just do us all a favour and stop that stinking oaf of a witcher from having too bad an influence on her.”

With Yennefer bound to spend more time with the princess, Tissaia knew that she would do everything in her power to keep him away. She generally wasn't a jealous person, but in this case? Geralt had proven to be irrational and rash in his decisions, reckless, some would call it. Surely nobody could blame the rectoress for not wanting him near her love?

One thing bothered Tissaia, though. Phillipa knew way too much about future events and she knew the nifty Redanian would not give up the source of her information. She knew that, and yet she asked, “How come you know so much about destiny, and care to influence it so incredibly much? Would your outcome really be that beneficial to you?”

Philippa glared at her disbelievingly and asked, “Did you not just listen to me? You and Yennefer are the only ones able to secure everyone’s survival. Surely you see how life with problems is more desirable than being dead? And I know because I cared enough to gather information, dear Tissaia.” It would have been too good to be true if Philippa had given her an actual answer, of course. Decades of being a spy made her more paranoid and calculating than most people ever had the chance of turning out to be.

“Well, have you satisfied your curiosity, or do you plan on staying at Kaer Morhen? Because I’m afraid there isn’t enough room at the moment,” said Tissaia in a pleasant tone. At that, the Redanian only chuckled and reassured her that she had no intention of staying, but also told her to keep an eye out, as she did plan on visiting regularly. At that, Tissaia raised her eyebrows and replied, “After spying on her property, I am not quite certain how well your visits would be perceived by Yennefer.”

“Oh, not to worry, she didn’t seem too bothered just now. Do give her my regards once you safe her from the blundering oaf you left her with.” With that, Philippa swiftly turned back into an owl and flew westward, and Tissaia wondered whether she would make it home in one flight or if she would have to stop along the way.

Remembering that Yennefer indeed was with Geralt at the moment, she pursed her lips momentarily and turned towards the castle, briskly walking towards the imposing doors.

* * *

A few steps into the entrance hall, Geralt stopped, throwing a glance into the spacious common room connected to the hall. Yennefer, fully prepared to turn the witcher into a toad should he whine about his wounded pride, stared him down, refusing to be the one to say something first. If he wanted to talk, he would have to start the conversation.

After another moment of silence, he said, “I want to apologise. It’s my fault you almost died during that ritual you mentioned, and I should never have caused anything of the sort. Are you… okay now?” Pleasantly surprised about the fact that the man apparently did have the ability to reflect on his actions, Yennefer gave him a slight smile. While they never worked very well as a couple, Geralt had never purposefully done anything to hurt her, and if he continued to show that he had a brain, Yennefer thought it possible to be friends with him. Maybe.

“I am fine, Geralt. Trust me when I say that Tissaia would not have let me out of her sight if I was anything less then. But to tell you the truth, I had expected you to be a bit more upset about the bond being severed, you have taken the news rather well,” answered Yennefer, hoping that he wouldn’t notice how blatantly she now fished for his reaction.

The white-haired man hummed in contemplation, briefly mustering the cracked wall to his right. And even though Yennefer had a tendency to get bored rather quickly, she appreciated him taking the time to formulate an answer that wouldn’t be infuriating. When he looked back into her eyes, he said, “It probably hasn’t upset me as much because the Villentretenmerth already warned me that I would lose you.”

Nodding her approval, she watched the man for a moment. Considering how she harsh she had been the day before, maybe she should say something comforting. Not that she cared about his level of comfort, she mostly cared about her own, and angry hosts were significantly less likely to offer their guests a pleasant stay. Giving him a wide smile, she said reassuringly, “About yesterday, Geralt, I want you to know that we truly didn’t come here to take away Ciri. No matter what happens, when a decision has to be made about anything, we will talk about it as adults. You, Tissaia, Triss, and me. Is that okay with you?”

The question was of a rhetoric nature, of course, but given his expression of relief, he apparently really had that insecurity. Not that Yen could blame him, seeing how her having a child had been her goal for decades.

Behind her, she heard soft footsteps before a delicate hand appeared on her shoulder as Tissaia took her place next to Yennefer. Upon seeing her, Geralt shifted somewhat awkwardly and said, “By the way, I believe Vesemir organised a bath for you two. The journey probably cost a bit of strength… I’ll see you at dinner, then.” And with those words, he turned around and left to join the others.

A sly grin almost split Yennefer’s face in two as she turned around to Tissaia and said, “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m going to use that bath.” At that, Tissaia narrowed her eyes at the raven-haired woman. In a rather cool tone of voice, she asked, “Leaving me again, so soon?”

At that, Yennefer chuckled and casually replied, “No, I was actually hoping you would join me.” Noting a slight tinge on Tissaia’s cheeks, Yennefer leaned in and placed a delicate kiss on her hairline before sauntering off, swaying her hips in a way that had always gotten her the desired result in the past. The sound of footsteps behind her told her that it still worked in her favour.

On their way to the bathroom, Yennefer reflected on the fact that she had just invited Tissaia to join her in the bathtub. She had never done that before, she knew that. But Tissaia knew her, had seen her at her worst. That should be worth something, in Yennefer’s eyes.

When they entered the room, Yennefer happily noted how warm the room temperature was and that steam rose up over the tub. With a little help of her chaos, she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the ground. Then, as she turned around, she looked at Tissaia who just stood there, seemingly unsure of herself, and asked, “Do you need help with that ridiculously complicated dress?”

All she got as a response was a scoff as Tissaia petulantly waved her hand, magically unbuttoning her beautiful, green dress. Yennefer shrugged in response and simply slid out of her underwear before getting into the hot water. It instantly did wonders for her muscles and Yennefer relaxed against the back of the tub, watching as Tissaia slowly got in herself while staring into her eyes.

“So,” Tissaia said, “what did Geralt want from you?” A snort escaped Yennefer before she could stop it, and she looked at her girlfriend with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her voice was a low drawl as she said, “My, my, Tissaia, you aren’t jealous, are you?” The question caused Tissaia to roll her eyes at Yennefer for the second time that day.

As soon as Tissaia relaxed against the back of the tub, Yennefer pushed herself off her end and glided across, settling onto Tissaia’s lap and giggling at her surprised expression. She delicately placed a kiss on Tissaia’s nose and said, “I’m yours now, Tissaia, I won’t ever go back to him, or leave you for that matter. Unless you want me to leave?”

“Don’t be daft, woman. It took me decades to get you, and you honestly believe I would let you go now?” Tissaia asked incredulously. Yennefer let out a delighted laugh and planted a firm kiss on Tissaia’s mouth, and when it was reciprocated, her hand settled on Tissaia’s hip as she pulled herself closer to the brunette. Tissaia tentatively placed a hand on Yennefer’s waist while her other hand snaked up to her neck, allowing her to pull herself up a little to get even closer.

All too soon, Tissaia broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily and ignoring the pout on Yennefer’s face. Brushing a strand of hair out of Yennefer’s face, she softly chided, “You are dangerously close to starting something you won’t be able to finish, Yennefer. Or have you forgotten that dinner will be served sometime soon?” Gently taking Tissaia’s hand, Yennefer placed a kiss atop of it. Mischief and lust sparkled in her eyes as she replied, “But Tissaia, have you forgotten? It’s Lambert’s turn to cook, and he will make barely edible pasta. How important could it possibly be for us to be punctual tonight?”

* * *

Little more than an hour later, the two of them ventured down to the dining hall. Tissaia felt immensely grateful for two things: Magic that helped them get dressed and the fact that dinner apparently hadn’t started too long ago, judging by how full everyone’s plates still were. She gave the witchers, Triss and Ciri a small smile and settled down on one of the two chairs, feeling Yennefer sit down next to her.

“I’ve never known you to be late, Tissaia, is everything alright?” asked Triss with genuine concern. Out of the corner of her eye, Tissaia saw Yennefer hide her smirk with a goblet which no doubt held wine. Choosing her words very carefully, she said, “We merely lost track of time, Triss, no need to worry. We had quite a bit of talking to do, as you no doubt can imagine.”

Lambert snorted indignantly, telling Tissaia exactly what he thought about her flimsy excuse. As long as he didn’t say anything in front of the child and Triss, she would ignore him. She had more than enough tricks up her sleeve should he prove to be more trouble than he was worth. With the slightest movement from Geralt and a thump from under the table, the rectoress could be sure the witcher had been reprimanded for his unfitting behaviour. Seeing Lambert flinch actually filled her with a spark of glee.

Ciri, apparently oblivious to what currently transpired, looked up from her plate and, staring at Tissaia with big, green eyes, she asked, “Rectoress, are we all going to stay at Kaer Morhen? Triss told me about Aretuza, and that all young sorceresses are taught there, but I don’t want to leave.” Additionally to her sweet tone, she showed the brunette the most effective puppy eyes Tissaia had ever seen.

Chuckling, she filled her plate with the rather trite pasta and a bit of questionable looking sauce. Shaking her head slightly, she looked back into emerald eyes and said, “No, Cirilla. Winter is upon us and I really don’t think teleporting across half the continent would be good for any of us. Also, Aretuza is a place for the more ordinary sorceresses, and you, child, are by no means ordinary. No doubt there are a lot of people currently out there looking to get their hands on you, so we will have to make do with our resources here, as it is the safest place for you. For any of us, really.”

The Princess seemed happy with Tissaia’s answer and went back to eating her food. Tasting her own dish, Tissaia wondered how Ciri could eat such bland noodles with such vigour. Glancing at Geralt, she noted that he looked at her with a grateful expression. The same expression he had given Yen earlier. She came to the conclusion that he must have thought her and her girlfriend didn’t necessarily agree on what would happen with the girl.

They spent the rest of this dinner making idle chit chat, with Triss explaining how she got to the castle after she had vanished from the battlefield and the witchers telling each other about the jobs they had gotten over the last year. All of them were positive that the next year would bring a lot of jobs concerning ghouls and other despicable creatures feasting on the dead.

Tissaia could see why. She had seen the damage carnage at Sodden hill, and no doubt there had been similarly catastrophic battles further south. In Cintra, around Marnadal, and surely all through Nazair. The only thing she knew for sure was Toussaint having surrendered, with Annarietta choosing her throne over her independence from Nilfgaard. Tissaia did not share this tidbit of information, however, as it would have done nothing to further the conversation.

Soon they had finished eating and moved to the common room, sitting in a circle around the fireplace. Tissaia had all intentions to sit on the wooden chair next to the armchair Yennefer had secured herself. Yennefer, however, had other ideas and, before Tissaia had any chance at protesting, she snaked an arm around her middle and pulled the brunette into her lap.

Narrowing her eyes, Tissaia chided, “This is highly unprofessional, Yennefer, just because you don’t care about etiquette does not mean others share your insouciance.” The answer she got presented in the form of laughter all around, with everyone assuring her that this was by no means a professional setting and that nobody cared. She looked around the room and realised that they all in fact didn’t give a damn. Catching Ciri’s glance, she saw the young girl look at them adoringly, as though she had just seen her childhood fantasies, and Tissaia had to look away quickly before a blush could form on her cheeks.

They fell back into easy conversation, Yennefer joining the Witchers in mocking politicians and the peasants stupid enough to trust their monarchs without question. Soon Tissaia herself forgot about the position she found herself in and relaxed into Yennefer’s loving embrace.

The sun had long since set when Geralt got up and declared that he would carry Cirilla, who had fallen asleep in front of the fire a while ago, to bed, asking for assistance with the doors to avoid waking the girl. Tissaia thought that the man would be capable of doing it himself, but seeing how pointedly he looked at her, she made up the excuse of being quite tired and followed him as it now was the most convenient option.

Knowing that he meant to have some words with her before she got to really go to bed – her being exhausted had been a mere exaggeration – she watched him as he lovingly tucked Ciri into bed. For an oaf his size he could be surprisingly gentle, she thought.

After he closed the door behind him, he gave her a calculating look before saying, “I know you and Yennefer are a couple now, it is quite obvious even without announcement. So let me start by apologising for almost taking her from you, and thanking you for helping her through this.”

“Being there in person certainly helped, but other than that I simply existed as her natural-born soul bond, that is nothing I could help even if I wanted to. But I’m glad to see you care enough about her to be honest about this.” He grimaced slightly, apparently not having expected her to be this open about the nature of their bond.

Obviously choosing his next words very carefully, he looked into her eyes with utmost sincerity as he said, “I care about her a great deal, she is a mesmerising personality, as you probably know. Better than myself, I’d guess. In the decades I have known her, I have never seen her this happy, and I certainly haven’t seen her go this long without hiding behind cynicism or a façade of jokes.”

Tissaia nodded in agreement. Cynicism and sarcasm had become some of Yennefer’s favourite tools when trying to hold someone at arm's length, and she only now noticed how little of it she used in Tissaia’s presence since they got together. A smile crept on her face without her permission as she realised how much Yennefer had changed in a short time, going from pushing her away with great success to actively seeking her out.

“You don’t plan on endangering any lives in this castle from here on out, do you, Geralt?” asked Tissaia in a calm tone of voice, forcing herself out of her thoughts to regain composure. Surprise passed over the witcher’s face and Tissaia guessed that he hadn’t expected her to be this blunt about it, or even bring it up at all.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before saying, “No. I never intended for anyone to be in danger, but I can see where you are coming from. Will it help if I promise to be more careful in the future?”

Tissaia narrowed her eyes, considering the White Wolf carefully. She knew from centuries of experience in political matters that holding a grudge would be ill-advised, but that didn’t change the fact that Yen almost died because of him. Then again, she stayed in this castle as a guest, so she should show herself in a pleasant way. Momentarily closing her eyes before looking at Geralt again, she conceded, “It certainly is a start, and everything needed to start somewhere. Good night, Geralt.”

Without waiting for an answer from the man, she turned around and walked towards her and Yennefer’s room at a rather relaxed pace. There was no need to make Geralt think she fled from him. No matter how much she looked forward to changing into more comfortable attire and finally go to sleep. The day had been long enough at this point.

She did decide on waiting up on Yennefer, however, as she had a feeling that her girlfriend didn’t desire to stay in the presence of a bunch of witchers when she had Tissaia waiting for her in bed.


	19. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three sorceresses start the education Cirilla's, and Tissaia talks to Yennefer about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you thought I was completely done with angst, you were wrong. Sorry to disappoint. Also, apologies for the raw form of this chapter, I did not have the time to edit it. Thank you for all your comments and for accompanying me on this journey, it has been a blast! And thank you for sticking with me this long.  
> Disclaimer: Neither the world nor the characters of the Witcher belong to me. No money has been made from this and no copyright infringement has been intended.

The sound of wood hitting wood echoed through the courtyard, reaching up to the window in the tower Tissaia had chosen to oversee the progress without anyone noticing her. Her stance was relaxed while her elbows rested on the windowsill. She had been told that Cirilla had already been training with the wooden sword for a month by the time Yen and she had gotten there.

Two weeks had passed since then, and Tissaia made use of that time by spending it with her girlfriend as well as watching the girl that would supposedly save the world. In that time, she had confirmed that she, too, carried the ability for both light and darkness, like every prospective sorceress.

Cirilla also had little in a way of discipline when Tissaia had first started her lessons with her, though that had been remedied rather quickly. The lessons she held with Triss, though, still proved to be of a more relaxed formality. Triss, in her unending softness, showed herself prone to giving the girl what she wanted, and it was a miracle the princess made any headway in elvish at all.

Weapon training seemed to be easier for the young girl. Tissaia thought that was partly due to the fact that the training equipment behaved in a more unforgiving manner, hitting her in just the right places to make her missteps hurt. Cirilla would often limp off the courtyard and sport bruises for days after, sometimes even weeks, like the one on her left shoulder.

Tissaia didn’t doubt that Cirilla needed to learn how to defend herself, considering the journey it took to get her to Kaer Morhen in the first place. But still, she had to question whether or not they should have waited until she showed a clearer leaning to one of the sides. This child could potentially end the world, after all.

Suddenly, Tissaia felt someone’s presence next to her and she turned, coming face to face with Triss, who had leaned against the wall, looking out the window as well. The dark-eyed woman gazed down at Cirilla adoringly. Triss had spent significantly more time with Cirilla than either Tissaia or Yennefer had, but the brunette still found the amount of adoration in her gaze a tad troubling.

Not tearing her eyes away from Ciri doing her dance of death, she said, “Isn’t she exceptional? She is learning so fast in different subjects.” At that, Tissaia snorted and turned her gaze back to the courtyard. Fast definitely did not describe her progress, in Tissaia’s opinion.

She felt the woman next to her shift to look at her with what no doubt was an incredulous expression. When no question came forth, the rectoress decided on answering it without prompting, “She learns about as fast as the students of Aretuza, Triss. It might be too far in the past for you to remember, dearest, but you showed far more aptitude for the elven language than she does. Though that may well be rooted in your soft nature causing you to give her more breaks than she needs. You are spoiling her.”

When the rectoress turned her eyes back to Triss, she found her frowning at her blunt words. Giving her a tightlipped smile, Tissaia added, “You are enamoured with the girl, Triss. I can’t say that I blame you, even if I don’t think it is wise.”

Triss’ frown deepened and she replied, “Wise? What do you mean? You have been here for two weeks, Tissaia, how can you not be enamoured with her? Just look at how pure she is, the amount of dedication she shows. You used to value that, right?”

Tissaia softly shook her head. Triss hadn’t lived as long as she had, she hadn’t seen as much. Sure, she had gained experience through the years, at Sodden, too. But she still carried her air of innocence that made her so unique among sorceresses.

Looking into Triss’ eyes as imploringly as possible, she said, “Considering all the trauma she went through, there is no way we can call her pure and be right about that. She is just about 14 years old and she already saw more death than an eighty-year-old should have. She is currently training to kill, Triss, and her words about getting revenge on the people responsible for her grandmother’s death don’t have me feeling very optimistic. There is a potential for both light and darkness in everyone, Triss, that does not exclude her. She has to choose the light, we can’t just assume she will, especially with the training we provide her with.”

An expression of sadness entered Triss’ expression, and she looked away from the rectoress. Tissaia knew that the woman had a hard time accepting her words, but she knew they wouldn’t be dismissed either. Triss had proven time and time again that she knew how to use her brain, even in the most uncomfortable of situations.

“Just think of what any further trauma could do to her, Triss. I’m not saying that she will turn to darkness without a doubt, Triss. She needs us to help her build a sounds moral compass, don’t forget that,” Tissaia added, hoping to ease the young sorceress’ mind at least a bit.

Triss whipped around to her, looking at her as though she desperately tried to understand her meaning. As she waited for a proper reaction from the other woman, Tissaia heard heels walk down the corridor somewhere behind her, indicating that Yennefer would soon join them. When she didn’t come to a satisfying conclusion, she asked, “So what are we supposed to do? Lock her up, throw away the key and hope she turns out fine?”

“No, Triss,” said Yennefer as she came to a halt next to them, “we do our best to educate Cirilla and then bring her to her place of destiny.” Tissaia felt gratitude when Yennefer gave her best friend a warm smile. From the first time Tissaia had seen the two together, Yennefer always had a way of influencing the dark-eyed woman.

Triss nodded solemnly. With a neutral expression, she turned to look outside, where Ciri had gotten knocked off by the pendulum for the third time this hour. The three of them could hear Lambert yell something unintelligible, but judging by the way Ciri threw the sword at him with a conflicted expression and stormed off, it hadn’t been the nicest dismissal he ever gave her.

“What do you mean by her place of destiny? You can’t tell me that the place where she is supposed to safe the world was mentioned anywhere,” Triss murmured absentmindedly as she observed how Ciri all but ran from the training area.

After a soft chuckle, Yennefer laid it out for her, “Cirilla is a form of the word Zireael, which means swallow, and if you care to remember your history lessons, there is a story about Tor Zireael, the sister tower to Tor Lara.”

Just like that, Triss’ confused expression vanished and a sense of understanding shone in her eyes. She nodded softly, now returning Yennefer’s warm smile. Turning to look out on the now empty courtyard, she said, “Well, I better go check on her and make sure she is in a good mood for your field trip, Yennefer.”

Yen thanked her and the two of them watched Triss walk away. Tissaia watched her go as well, before turning to her girlfriend, only to find Yen staring at her with about a similar look of adoration that Triss had given the child earlier. Amused, Tissaia raised an eyebrow, slowly closing the gap between them while casually encircling Yen’s waist with her arms. With a cheeky smile, she asked, “Is there something I can do for you, darling?”

Yennefer let out a genuine laugh, letting her lower arms settle on either shoulder of Tissaia as she replied, “Not enough in the short amount of time I have until I take the little one Chaos hunting.”

They exchanged a loving kiss before reluctantly deciding against being flippant and stepping a bit further apart. Tissaia let out a soft sigh, rubbed Yennefer’s arms up and down gently and said, “Come, let’s go downstairs. Cirilla will surely be there and maybe I will have a visitor as well.”

“The owl?” asked Yennefer with a hint of disfavour, making Tissaia smile in triumph as she couldn’t help but think she had been right about Yennefer not being happy about further visits from Philippa. To her credit, Yennefer kept her facial expressions more or less in check as they walked towards the castle’s exit, and her voice was only slightly sarcastic as she said, “If she does turn up, feel free to tell her to stay away from my house.”

Pearls of laughter escaped Tissaia, enjoying Yennefer’s sarcasm more than she might have a few weeks back. Capturing Yennefer’s hand with her own, she said, “I don’t think your house is overly interesting to her, now that she knows your general whereabouts.” At that, Yennefer only grumbled something along the lines of ‘pesky babysitter’, and Tissaia decided not to continue this particular discussion.

* * *

Ciri and Yennefer walked down the valley in which Kaer Morhen had been built, hidden away from and long forgotten by the rest of the continent. They headed towards the lake up north, passing ruins of another ancient building, one which Yennefer had inspected on one of her earlier visits. It had been dripping with a sense of loss and tragedy, and Geralt had later explained to her that many young men, who had trained to become witchers, had died there during the attack on Kaer Morhen.

Yennefer swiftly had them bypass it, as the air of suffering and sorrow would be detrimental to the lesson she wanted to teach the girl. The raven-haired woman noticed that, much to her delight, the training lessons the witchers put Cirilla through had apparently increased her stamina to the point where she could easily keep up.

They arrived at a small clearing by the shore of the lake. The view on the little boathouse looked magnificent, and Yennefer happily realised that one of the boats had come loose and now floated in the middle of the lake. She doubted the witchers would miss it if something were to happen to it. Turning around, she found Ciri already look at her expectantly.

In her first lesson, the week before, she had made it abundantly clear that she expected Ciri to listen to her without question and trust that she knew what was best for her at that moment. That lesson had been more of an introduction, really. Yennefer had decided to wait with the actual lessons until Tissaia could give her an expert opinion of the nature of the child, the brunette had read children like open books for centuries, after all.

Clasping her hands in front of her, Yennefer said, “In order for you to learn how to control chaos, you first need to learn the basics of magic, which is indirectly why I brought you here. Why do you already look like you have a question?”

“Because I was wondering if you really think that I could be a sorceress.” She said it while bumping her right foot into the grass toes first, displaying more anxiety than she ever had in Yennefer’s presence.

Granting her a slight smile, Yennefer reassured her, “I had Tissaia get her impression of you first for that very reason. If she thinks you have the aptitude – which she does – then you simply do.”

Yennefer paused to make sure the girl really understood her meaning, and when she found the understanding she had been looking for in emerald eyes, she said, “Now, many people, if asked, will tell you that magic is spiritual, supernatural and artful, as it may create many beautiful and entrancing things from nothing. And they are correct in their assessment. Then there are those who would gladly protest that, insisting that magic is, in fact, science. What these people do not realise is that, while they are correct, one does not negate the other. Are you with me so far?”

Cirilla looked at her with big eyes through which Yennefer could see the wheels in her head turn. She seemed eager to prove her intelligence to Yennefer as she slowly nodded and said, “Magic is an art as well as a science, and those arguing against it need to be more open-minded and realise the natural order of things such as this because the world wouldn’t be the same if either vanished one day.”

That jump had been unexpected and not quite what Yennefer played at, but she made a mental note of it to tell Tissaia later, maybe that would ease her mind about Ciri potentially going dark. Nodding, she replied, “Yes, exactly. It is art and science. It can be a course or a blessing, but that isn’t dependant on magic itself, but on who wields it and to what end. Magic is chaos, Cirilla, and like Tissaia once taught me, chaos is all around us, we just need to reach out.”

For dramatic effect, she gestured towards the tree line with her right hand and summoned up a light breeze. Stepping aside to grant the princess a clear view of the lake, she casually dropped her hand again as she let the breeze become stronger, causing Ciri to sidle up closer with her for safety. The sorceress didn’t pay the girl too much attention as she watched dark clouds form out of nowhere and listened to the thunder being released within an unnaturally short amount of time. For a brief moment, she wondered whether Tissaia was watching them from one of the northern towers and whether she rolled her eyes at Yennefer’s theatrics.

Being this close to her meant that Yennefer could hear the squeak escape her lips when she summoned lightning, which struck the floating boat. As wood did, it started burning almost immediately. The boat would have been no danger to anything around, as it drifted in the centre of the lake. Still, Yennefer decided to conclude her little demonstration by having a wave crash over the fire, extinguishing it almost immediately. She couldn’t be sure what creatures inhabited the lake, and they might not react friendly to a burning boat right above them.

“Chaos can be found within the earth, which we inhabit and wander,” Yen said as the clouds had cleared up again. “It is in the fire that grants us warmth when the world is cold. It is in the water that life to everything around us, and it is in the air that allows us to breathe. You just have to reach for it.”

Raising an eyebrow at Ciri, who had taken a step back from her again while still staring at her in wonder, she waited for a signal on whether she understood what she said. Bright eyes looking into Yennefer’s, the girl said, “Magic is chaos, and chaos can be found in all of the elements, we just need to reach for it and take it.”

Satisfied, Yennefer continued, “Correct, you are a clever one. I suspect you might have also already felt it reach out to you from behind the doors which have been closed off to us by the conjunction of the spheres. From the look on your face, I can tell that it scared you, as it would many people. That is normal, you must know that. Chaos is within every one of us, but so is the balance. Good, as well as evil, lingers in everyone, waiting to be chosen. You have to chose what you want to be, Cirilla, as well as learn how to control the chaos within you to create the balance that will help you survive.”

This time, Ciri only nodded, probably overwhelmed by the fact that Yennefer seemed to know so much about her fear. Yennefer did not need an answer from her, though, she only needed her understanding, which still shone on her face. She reached out with her hand, gently running it through silver hair as she examined Cirilla’s facial expression.

“This is not a normal lesson, child of destiny,” implored Yennefer, “but you are also not a normal child, are you? There is a prophecy about you, and we need to make sure you are prepared to face it. Chaos is sending you nightmares, reaches into your dreams from behind closed doors. It wants you to be afraid, so you cannot hinder it on its path of destruction. We will teach you how to achieve balance, make chaos even more afraid of you.” When the girl nodded, Yennefer shot her what she hoped to be a calming smile and took her hand, guiding her to another clearance.

This clearance was deeper in the woods, hiding the lake from view. It looked just as beautiful with the mountains looming all around the trees. The ground mostly consisted of moss instead of grass or dirt, and in the middle, hit by rays of sunshine, stood an imposing obelisk. The sorceress immediately recognised the waves of chaos rolling off of it, and she couldn’t help but think that the aura of power made the scene all the more beautiful.

Looking back at Ciri, Yennefer had to stifle a smile when she realised how amazed and captivated the young girl seemed. Not waiting for the child to look at her, Yennefer explained, “This is a place of power, the witchers use it to enhance their own… primitive kind of magic. Chaos flows through the world in vein-like structures, and this stone exhibits as much power because several veins meet in this very place. Now, I want you to touch it, and when you do, chaos is likely to try and instil fear in you by any means it has. Whatever you are going to see, remember who and where you really are.”

Ciri nodded and – following through on her promise to trust Yennefer – reached for the stone. As soon as she came into contact with it, Yennefer could see the distance form in her eyes. She heard a startled gasp tear from her throat and saw an expression of fear form on delicate features.

When fear morphed into pain, Yennefer spoke her name, trying to get her back into reality. Turning the girl to look at her, she saw fear and sorrow intensify in those wide eyes as Cirilla looked right through her. Illusions had a funny habit of being longer in the mind than the episodes themselves usually took. Illusions were like dreams, their concept of time was warped and unreliable.

Even to her, it felt like ages until Cirilla finally snapped back out of it, stammering something about Geralt, Triss, Tissaia and her, as well as about the time of contempt and of the white frost. Yennefer grimaced slightly as she realised it had likely been a brutalized form of her prophecy.

“Okay, let’s get you back to the castle and get you some snacks, hm? And don’t worry, I will teach you how to ward this, or any other, vision off. You won’t ever have to go through something like this again.” She had every intention of keeping her word as she guided the young girl back through the forest while her hand was held in a death grip, and she knew that she would succeed as she had succeeded in almost all her endeavours.

* * *

Teaching Ciri how to protect herself against visions had only taken a day and a half, and Yennefer remembered how proud she'd felt at how fast she had picked that up. Now the only emotion filling her was frustration. For three hours she corrected Ciri on the gesture she had the girl study for a basic spell.

The princess kept insisting that the sword training had made her hand too stiff for this gesture, and every time she did, Yennefer had to control her self to not inadvertently roll her eyes. Geralt had fought with his sword for decades and he still had the ability to perform the witchers’ signs.

Raking her hands through rave locks, Yennefer gave up on this subject for the day, saying, “Okay, let’s change the subject. Get dressed, we are going out and have you find another water vein.” At that, the girl huffed and retorted that she did not want to look for another vein. Tissaia walked into the library mid-tantrum. Despite tantrum, Ciri still managed to make a, in her eyes, valid argument: Why did she have to look for water when they stood on earth and air surrounded them at all times.

Before Yennefer could rebuke any of Ciri’s arguments, Tissaia cut in, “Good point, Cirilla, you should get to practice with earth too. Why don’t you get dressed and we search for a flower that survived the first snowfall, hm?” Her face didn’t show any emotions, just like when Yennefer had been a student at Aretuza. But, since she had been getting to know her a lot better over the past month, Yennefer saw a spark of amusement hidden away in those green depths.

“It’s cold outside, why can’t we just stay inside and use the fire instead,” Ciri asked with a pout. Tissaia immediately tensed up, and Yennefer knew exactly where her mind had gone because hers did too. Except she didn’t just remember herself obliterating soldiers and vanishing after, no, she remembered the fact that she had almost died in a field in the middle of Dol Blathana, only surviving thanks to a lengthy unconscious state and the care of the elves. The memory was so vivid in her mind that she felt all the colour drain from her face as she stared at Ciri with a blank face.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, Yennefer said, “Listen to me very carefully, Cirilla. Fire should never be used as a source for chaos, never. Out of all the elements, it is the most dangerous. It will bait you into using more, it will make you promises of grandeur and power. It will tell you that it can make you the most powerful being on earth if only you let it in.”

Looking back at Tissaia, she saw the emotions in her eyes, as well as encouragement to continue on. Cirilla had to know why she literally shouldn’t play with fire. Turning back to the child, she said, “But if you do, it will devour you whole, fire chaos will eat away at you until nothing is left and you, yourself, will burn. Take it from me, because at Sodden Hill I found myself in an impossible situation, and I had to use fire. I almost died because of it. So promise me that you will never use it!“

With wide eyes, Ciri nodded. Obvious that the girl felt overwhelmed by the disturbing explanation, Yennefer took a step back from her and turned to Tissaia instead, looking deep into her eyes as she said via thought transference, _“Relax, Tissaia, please. I am still here, as you can very well see.”_

_“Yes, I can, but that was a fifty-fifty chance and I should have never dragged you into that mess,”_ she replied instantly, giving her a scathing look. Apparently, she decided that this conversation had ended and turned to Ciri, saying, “come on, girl, let’s see if we can get you to lift a stone without touching it.”

And so they did, which meant that Tissaia had officially hijacked Yennefer’s lesson, leaving her to trail behind and admire her in her teaching mode. Not that Yennefer would ever complain, of course. She found this side of Tissaia to be rather appealing and she regretted being blinded by her own pride in her own youth. Then again, if she had made a move on her during that time, that would have been highly unethical and Tissaia would have never stood for that.

Later that night, shortly after dinner, Tissaia found herself situated in Yennefer’s lap, as per usual. Yennefer quite enjoyed the casual closeness Tissaia had long since stopped protesting against. Before Yen had the chance to drink too much from the good wine Vesemir had somehow spelt into existence, Tissaia leant in and said, “Let’s go upstairs, Yennefer, we have a few things to discuss.”

Not daring to disobey her beloved in front of everyone, Yennefer followed her into their chamber, sitting down in a chair before their vanity and looking at Tissaia expectantly. The rectoress gave tight smile, seeming nervous as she said, “I think we can agree on the fact that Ciri is making marvellous progress, and that she does not give any indication that would lead us to believe she will turn to the darkness.”

Narrowing her eyes at the brunette in confusion, Yennefer replied, “Yes, dear. Since we already discussed this with Triss two days ago, you already knew that I agree with you, though. We surely didn’t leave early and sober for you to reiterate this, did we?” With a soft sigh, Tissaia closed her eyes and shook her head.

“We need to talk, about us,” Tissaia said. Quickly realising how that could be received, she amended, “Or our situation, rather. We have been here for a month now, Yennefer.” Her eyes were slightly widened as she seemingly begged Yen to understand what she was talking about.

Yennefer did not, however, so she said, “I fail to see your point, Tissaia. If you could please elaborate.” She felt apprehension rise within her, but she forced herself not to close down. Shutting Tissaia out now would probably undo all the progress they made, and she didn’t yet know whether this would turn into one of those talks. Until she knew for certain, she needed to keep calm.

Shoulders dropping, she gave Yennefer a sad look and said, “I’m officially still rectoress of Aretuza, Yennefer. On top of that, I am still a member of the chapter, no matter what happened at Sodden.” Now Yennefer understood where this was going, even if she didn’t see the whole dimensions of the topic yet. Aretuza sat at the other end of the continent, teleporting back and forth between weekends could be called many things, but not practical.

“So, what?” she asked as neutral as possible, “You want to have a long-distance relationship until Ciri fulfils her destiny and I can move in with you at Aretuza?”

Placatingly, Tissaia gestured with a raised hand, arguing, “Okay, strictly speaking, I have a house in Gors Velen, okay, you wouldn’t have to move back to the school you hate so much…” She stopped talking once Yennefer snorted incredulously, looking at her pleadingly as the raven-haired woman said, “You don’t get the point, Tissaia. There is no guarantee to Cirilla’s success, no matter how much progress she makes, and I don’t want to spend what could be the only time I have with you on two separate parts of the continent. We both know that we can’t take Ciri to Aretuza, and teaching her in Gors Velen is hardly an option.”

That got Tissaia thinking. She knew that Yennefer was right, of course. Guarantees did not exist in a mages life, they never had. But falling off the map also wasn’t an option for her. “They need me,” she said, “and before you say something please listen to my proposal: I got a letter from Margarita. Everything has been well these past two months, but she is only filling in. Give me one month. That’s all I need to teach her how to be rectoress for as long as it takes. I will still have to go to chapter meetings in the future, but those are few and far between. Think about it if you must, but please let me come back after the month is out. You know I really, really can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

Yennefer sat there for a moment, considering Tissaia’s proposal, taking in her posture. This much nervousness on display, mostly visible by looking at how she rubbed her hands, could only be categorized as uncharacteristic for Tissaia. The rectoress genuinely worried Yennefer would cut her out of her life.

Standing up gracefully, Yennefer stepped closer to Tissaia. When the two stood toe to toe, she said, “Sort out your affairs, rectoress. But,” she placed her hand on Tissaia’s cheek, preventing her from looking away and savouring the joyous smile on her face, “sort them out good, because when you come back, I will not let you go again.”

Without waiting for an answer, she leant in and passionately kissed Tissaia, making it clear to the beautiful brunette that she was entirely serious about this. Because, while she certainly didn’t like the thought of being separated from the love of her life, she could bear the thought under the condition that it would be the only separation for a very, very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, there might be a possibility for a second part, depending on how much inspiration I can gather up for it.


End file.
